


Bad Cop

by Girl_WithTheDirtyMind



Series: Smut, Angst, and Deliciously Dark Plot Lines [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acting, Adorable Dean/Reader Relationship, Aliases, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Awkward Sam, Begging, Blood, Caring Dean, Caring Sam Winchester, Caught, Cocky Dean, Confusion, Coping, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute Ending, Dark fic, Dean Being an Asshole, Distrust, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Fear, Feelings, Fights, Flashbacks, Fluff, Handcuffs, Hitchhiking, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Impala, Injury, Lies, Manipulation, Medical Procedures, Men of Letters Bunker, Minor Pain, Misunderstandings, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Police, Police Brutality, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape Recovery, Roughness, Secrets, Sleeptalking, Sneaking Around, Snooping, Some Humor, Surprise Castiel, Suspicions, The Winchesters and The Law, Threats, Trauma, Violence, Worried Dean, angel grace, bad cop - Freeform, cheap motel, food thievery, hurt!reader, john winchester journal, sedative, virgin!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girl_WithTheDirtyMind/pseuds/Girl_WithTheDirtyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is picked up by Dean when she's hitchhiking late one night, and just when she thinks her life might take a turn for the better, they are pulled over by a bad cop. . . Shit gets real.<br/> </p><p>Hitchhiker fic. ~ Tagged for both Chapters!!! Enjoy ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Street Smarts Kiddo"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References: When Dean refers to the state trooper as Sheriff Storch, he is referencing a movie called "I Spit On Your Grave". Sheriff Storch is a rapist.
> 
> Triggers: Pretty graphic attempted rape and threats occur. Also Dean intimidates the reader in a few parts of the story and it could be pretty scary for some readers. Non-descriptive mentions of past abuse, and it is mentioned that the reader is a virgin. . . Not sure why I feel like that might be a trigger, but some people have surprising ones. So as always, please proceed with caution. :)
> 
> Other than all that jazz, enjoy :) This is a darker fic.

The chill from the midnight Nebraska breeze ghosted over your bare arms and made you shiver, goosebumps rose along your exposed skin forcing you admit how poorly thought out this whole plan had been.

_I had to get out of there. I had to._

Truthfully you could have waited another couple months, years maybe, but why bother? Your dad was an asshole and a drunk who just didn’t care about you anymore. . So you ran.

You left him watching the game with a beer in his meaty hand, and an easy lie that you would be back within the hour.

That was five hours ago, and you’d been walking on this abandoned highway ever since, with nothing to your name but the tank top on your back and the leggings on your ass.

You didn’t even have your phone, because you knew he would call you nonstop to leave threatening voicemails. Again, poorly thought out. If someone didn’t come along and pick you up, you would just have to turn around and go back to brave that bastard’s wrath. . Just like every other night.

_God please just let me start over._

Although you were only 19 years old, you’d had this strange depressing feeling that your life was over, that you’d already lived it out and there was nothing left to do but wait to die.

Of course there was the idea that college could save you from your crappy home life but you had no desire to waste that kind of money on something you didn’t want to commit to, and that was another year with _that_ son of a bitch.

College wasn’t what you needed, wasn’t what you longed for.

So there on that deserted dark stretch of asphalt, your goal was to find out what exactly you _did_ want. And then you would fucking get it. The full moon illuminated the grassy plains on either side of you, which made you grateful since you were afraid of the dark.

In fact you were a little uneasy being alone out there as it was, especially since you worried about what types of weirdos might try to pick you up. . . With nobody around to help you if things went sideways.

On cue the far off rumbling of a strong engine massaged your ear drums, and you glanced back to see bright headlights in the distance. Inexplicable butterflies awoke in your belly.

 _I must look total psycho out here with no clothes or bags. . . Jesus why would I expect_ anyone _to pick me up? I wish I would have brought my phone at least._

Then the horrible thought that it might be your father sparked in your brain, and all you wanted to do was go hide in the ditch buried in the tall grass. No. No those are weak thoughts.

_Be a woman about it and stick out your fucking thumb. This is what you want!_

With a huff you stiffly jerked your arm out and popped up your thumb, focusing on the way the headlights cast shadows over your hand so those dark thoughts might quiet down a bit.

You gulped when the motor slowed and the sleek black car pulled right up beside you, matching your pace.

“Hey. . . Are you alright kid?” you looked up, surprised that the man called you kid even though you pretty much looked like you could be 20 and he didn't even sound too much older than you. Another thing that caught you off guard was the question itself and the concern laced in that deep gravelly voice coming out of the window.

It wasn’t exactly a tone you were used to.

“Um. . . Uh yeah, just a little cold.” you wrapped your arms around yourself for emphasis, and tried to see the man behind the wheel through squinted eyes. It was just too dark too see clearly, but you could tell he was a big man,

“Need a ride?” you actually scoffed then, and your natural sarcasm spewed out before you could stop it,

“No I just enjoy ten mile walks in the middle of nowhere at night.” your eyes widened, “Shit I didn’t mean to say that, I’m just really tired. . . Sorry.” you finished with a sheepish shrug and stopped walking to face the window.

The car stopped too, and the mystery man threw it in park.

“Well get in then.” he clipped. You noticed he sounded a little miffed by your tone, but you were so determined to get out of the cold and away from your father, you threw open the shiny black door and plopped into the passenger seat before you could think too much about the potential consequences.

You swiveled to look at the driver feeling your nerves spark up in your gut once the reality of being in a strangers car took hold, but you struggled not to let it show on your face.

However your widening eyes and catch of your breath when you saw him for the first time kind of shot that horse in the face. You were right. He was big. . . He must’ve been over six feet tall, and muscular like he worked out a lot.

From what you could see he wore a heavy duty dark blue jacket with a flannel layered over a black shirt, and well fitting faded blue jeans. When your eyes finally worked up to his face your breath caught. He was. . . Well he was _super_ hot.

With the jawline, the eyes, and the hair you almost asked if he was a model, but you managed to hold your tongue. He looked to be in his late 20's. . . An age gap that normally you wouldn't touch, but he had the kind of face that would make you break all the rules.

He seemed like he was studying you back, his eyes were narrowed and they traveled up and down your body in a borderline predatory way like he was the one that didn’t trust _you_ , the look snapped you back to reality as well as turned you on significantly. You shook it off.

_It’s often the most attractive who kill people. They’re easiest to trust. . ._

“Where ya headed?” his voice was naturally authoritative but held a hint of something else. . You hoped it was concern. It took a moment to find words,

“Um. . Anywhere but home mister.” he snorted at the title, but it just seemed like he deserved the respect.

“Name’s _Dean_ sweetheart, not mister.” it was grumbled huskily, like you’d embarrassed him or something.

“Oh s - sorry.” you replied meekly, a response that was ingrained in your brain from your home life. There was a heavy sigh and the man abruptly twisted around to reach into the backseat.

Immediately, your hand flashed to the door handle, prepared to dive out of the stationary car and run for it if he came back with a knife. _Oh shit what the Hell is he digging around for?_

“Wh - what are you doing?” you asked worriedly as you studied him. Dean paused and glanced at you, grunting with a shake of his head like something was funny, before producing a big canteen and a scratchy looking army blanket from the back seat.

You wrinkled your nose at the musty smell the blanket must’ve acquired from being in the car for too long, but accepted it with a nervous nod.

The water however you were a bit skeptical about. The intense way he was watching you, with those dark narrowed eyes did nothing to ease your worries either, so you unscrewed the cap under his scrutiny and took a tentative little sniff.

_Like I would have any idea what roofies smell like._

Dean’s sharp eyes crinkled in slight amusement, like he was thinking the exact same thing. You swallowed a lump in your throat before speaking,

“You’re not trying to _drug_ me right?” there were still nervous tremors in your voice, and he seemed to come to attention at the sound. Those intense eyes watched you hug yourself tighter with one arm while you wondered just what type of crazy could be.

His hard gaze softened a touch but there was obvious mischief glinting in his eye that you decided was probably just a natural look for him.

“Wouldn’t that be a little backwards?” he gave you an easy smile that did nothing to calm your nerves, and you stared at him blankly. “I mean I already have you in my car, so I don’t really need to drug you. . . you’d be the easiest girl to kidnap. I didn’t even need to pull out my candy - just hopped right in yourself.”

You paled at the comment and started to reach for the door handle again, but he leaned over and snagged your hand gently causing you to whimper in fear,

“I - I’m just gonna wait for the next car mister. I mean D - Dean.” you stuttered earning an amused smile from him that just came off chilling, “P -please let go of me. . . please I -” before you could say anything more he put up his free hand innocently to stop your frightened babbling,

“Hey hey relax,” he urged gently with a soft smile that he meant to be reassuring, “it was just a joke, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Dean released your wrist and settled back to his side of the car,

“Oh. A _joke_. . Alright.” you nodded slowly still clutching the water,

“There’s nothing in that by the way, I just thought you might be thirsty after walking for as long as you did.” you nodded trying to relax as he threw the car in gear. He seemed to notice your tension and gave you a sideways smile,

“You know for a hitchhiker, you sure are a timid thing.” as if to prove him wrong, you took a hefty swig of his water, almost _moaning_ as the cold liquid washed down your parched insides, then promptly emptied the canteen in a greedy show of dehydration at it’s finest.

_God I didn’t even realize how thirsty I was._

“Sorry,” you murmured once you’d drank your fill, “I don’t really trust anyone very easily. . .” he nodded, and you watched the road blur under the yellow headlights as the car picked up speed. After a moment of silence he prompted,

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” you shrugged noncommittally and pursed your lips,

“Isn’t there always?” it was rhetorical but to avoid anymore questions you asked one of your own, “What kind of car is this?”

Dean’s displeasure at your evasive answer seemed to dissipate at the mention of his car. _Safe topic. Thank God._

“A Chevy Impala,” he answered with a loving little squeeze to the steering wheel. His involuntary gesture made you smile a little, “she’s my baby.” it was whispered like a secret, and you actually giggled a little. Then he looked at you seriously,

“If you can guess what year she is I won’t rob you and leave you stranded.” this time you recognized the sarcastic tone in his deep voice and didn’t freak out.

“Um. . . . _1966_?” your voice was high with hope at your guess,

“Sorry sweetheart, give me all your cash.” you laughed aloud for the first time in a long time, and blushed when you heard his rumbling chuckle mingle with yours.

“Was I even _close_?” you mocked exasperation,

“Actually yeah, she’s a 67’.” he received a raised brow at the ‘she’ and you decided to try and win points,

“Well you must take amazing care of her.” this time Dean raised a brow at you, awarding you an appreciative nod that made you feel all warm inside for some reason.

“You got a name sweetheart?” you felt your face redden significantly at your social slip,

“Um. . . It’s - it’s .” you said softly wondering if you should have came up with a fake one for some reason. However Dean’s rumbling laugh eased your worries as soon as they came,

“You sure about that?” he chided playfully, and without thinking you tagged him on the bicep with a loose fist giggling at his barb. But then you froze without fully knowing why,

“Oh shit, I’m - I’m sorry. . .” you stuttered feeling your heart freeze with sudden fear out of nowhere. Would he hit you _back_? Would he _yell_ at you? Multiple thoughts flashed through your panic clouded brain so intensely that you didn’t even realize Dean was actually still smiling,

“If that’s the best you got well. . . that’s. . . that’s just _sad_ babe.” he glanced at you when he saw how nervous you'd become all of a sudden, “It’s really alright. . . I have a brother and when we hit, we break noses. . . And furniture. You’re little featherweight hit don’t bug me kiddo.”

You shuddered at the thought of a man like Dean fighting, he was probably good at it. _Just like Daddy. No, stop that right now. . . Dean doesn’t seem anything like Dad._ Shaking off your anxiety, you quickly tried to salvage the good humored banter that the two of you seemed to be bonding over.

“ _Obviously_ that’s not all I’ve got.” you crossed your arms like a pouting child and he snorted,

“Whatever you say princess.” a smile lit your face. This guy seemed like a character, a good one, one that you might be able to trust enough to actually get some much needed sleep.

Before you nodded off though you had to work out the particulars,

“I was just thinking that you could get me to the next town. . . There’s a bus station there.” you knew the next town was around three hours away yet. He nodded,

“I thought you didn’t know where you were headed,” he speculated lightly and you shrugged,

“I figured I would just do eeny meeny miny mo once I got there. . . Like I said, _anywhere_ is fine by me.” there was a moment when all Dean did was glare at the road and kneed the steering wheel, his change in attitude made your stomach knot up.

“What are you running from ?” he finally asked, in a dead serious register. You gulped feeling anxiety at confessing your woes to a practical stranger,

“Does it matter?” you sighed and turned to the dark window to avoid his eyes,

“I’d say if whatever it is forced a seventeen year old run with only the clothes on her back, then yeah, it fucking matters.” you flinched at the curse,

“I’m _nineteen_.” you whispered quietly, “Do you care if I sleep?” you didn't want to talk anymore,

“Nope.” he bit out hotly with a loud pop on the P. “I suggest you brush up on your street smarts though kid.” he added, obviously referring to your lack of preparation, your willingness to sleep in the company of a stranger, and the absence of any real plan.

“Thanks.” you snuggled into the rough army blanket and leaned against the window, and drifted off trying to fight down the pricking of hurt tears.

_Don’t back out now. . . This is for your own good._

********

You were woken by a nudge to the shoulder, and you startled awake quite impressively, bashing your head against the chilled window and yelping like a beaten dog.

“ _Jesus_!” a deep manly voice yelled, and for a disorienting moment you had no clue where you were, so you scuttled away from the angry sounding male on instinct alone. Your back hit the window as your eyes were assaulted by blue flashing lights, and you sobbed dryly in panic,

“Hey chill out,” Dean bit at you, “you’re fine sweetheart.” you blinked against the mind splitting lights and squinted,

“Dean?” you asked, getting your bearings a little. _I was hitchhiking, he picked me up. . . I’m good._

“Yeah, who the Hell did you think it was?” he was obviously irritated,

“My Dad.” your last stages of sleep made your tongue loose apparently, and you instantly reddened, seeing the wide eyed look he was giving you in the obnoxious blue lights. “Are we being pulled over?”

You changed the subject quickly, and he shook off his surprise while he pulled the Impala to the shoulder of the road and threw her in park.

“Uh yeah. . .” he blinked at you for a second, before getting a very serious look on his face. “Listen, my name is Paul Frehley right now, got me?” you gaped at him waiting for the punchline, but he only bored his intimidating eyes into your wide (e/c) ones.

He was dead ass serious.

“Like the guitarist for _Kiss_ Paul Frehley?” surprise flitted across his features at your recognition, but he got right back to business,

“No , like Dean Winchester is wanted in all 50 states, Paul Frehley.” you paled, feeling your heart rate pick up as you instinctively pushed yourself against the door away from him.

_Of course, he’s a criminal after all. . . All 50 states? Oh sweet Jesus he’s probably a serial killer or rapist. Something serial. Nothing good._

Anger flashed across his features at your sudden unease and his big hand snapped out to grab your upper arm, you yelped in fear but he drug you close across the seat roughly, ignoring the way you shrunk away from him so drastically you were almost laying on your side. You automatically looked to the leather seat beneath you to avoid eye contact.

“Listen to me,” he growled in your ear tightening his hold to a bruising level until you whimpered, “it’s showtime sweetheart, and you don’t get to fuck up your lines.” your breathing was labored with the effort to control your terror, and your whole body was shaking in his grip.

Dean jerked you sharply at your lack of an answer knocking a sharp sob from your chest. You chanced a look up at him. That was a bad decision. The utter vehemence in his gaze did nothing but draw tears to your eyes and panic to your heart,

“Don’t say a fucking word.” he growled in your face. You hiccuped on another sob,

“I. . . I _won’t_ ,” you whined shrilly, the sound only attributing to your cowardice, “please let go of my arm. It - it hurts.” with flared nostrils and a survey of your sincerity, Dean released you, practically shoving you to the passenger seat.

You started to bring your knees up to your chest,

“Knees down, look normal.” Dean snapped and with shaking limbs you obeyed him, only to let out a loud startled cry when he reached suddenly for the glove compartment.

You got a heart stopping glare from the man, before he delved into the glove box that happened to be loaded with fake I.D.’s.

“Are you gonna hurt me. . ?” you managed to ask through a voice high with impending tears, he invaded your space again with his big muscular frame and you cowered into the door. You were barely able to suppress terrified sobs.

Dean grabbed your jaw and pulled you so close to him, you thought he might kiss you before he spoke with such a low measured voice you almost started screaming,

“Nothin’s gonna happen unless you fuck me over,” he promised, “do something stupid and then I’ll hurt ya princess.” a tear slipped out then but you managed to nod in his grip, he actually smiled at you for a moment, but it wasn’t kind.

“Good girl.” with that he released you and scooted back to his side just as the state police officer tapped on his window, flashlight in hand. With one last warning glance to you Dean cranked the window down, he immediately put on the most impressive fake smile you’d ever seen and spoke to the officer like it was any other day.

_This guy should have been an actor instead of a killer._

You watched Dean speak agreeably with the state trooper who looked to be in his mid 40’s or so. It was hard to really focus on what they were saying in your haze of anxiety.

Honestly you were just trying not to start bawling, and you had to focus the rest of your energy on trying not to shake so violently. The task wasn’t easy.

 _What happens after the cop leaves? I know he’s a wanted criminal so. . . Won’t he just kill me? I don’t want to die!_ You swallowed back emotion, blinking furiously to avoid spilling tears.

You had never felt such a sense of foreboding in all of your life,

“Miss?” the flashlight was on you suddenly, and you jumped before reining in your feelings with much difficulty,

“Um yes. . .?” you asked tentatively flicking your eyes over to Dean, who looked so pissed you almost made a break for it then and there. Instead of asking his question again the officer shone the light back on Dean,

“Is your sister alright Mr. Frehley?” there was suspicion in his voice, and you swallowed at the look Dean shot you before facing the officer again,

“Yeah, you just woke her up from a nap. It’s been a long drive Sir.” he chuckled lightly, easily winning over the state trooper with his natural charm. You felt sick.

“Ah well, you get that tail light fixed as soon as you hit the next town you hear?” Dean was already nodding his head agreeably,

“Yes Sir, I’ll do that first thing.” your window at safety was closing fast.

Something in your heart told you Dean would kill you, or hurt you at least, and there was no way you were just gonna sit back and wait for it to happen. Inching your hand to the door handle, you held your breath praying he wouldn’t look over and see you before you could get the door open.

Trembling fingers met cold metal, and you snaked them over the lip of the handle without taking your eyes off of Dean.

_Please let me get out of this. . Fuck I should have never left home. I didn’t think I would run into anybody worse than Daddy._

Mustering up all of your courage, you jerked the handle open and shoved the heavy door with your body as you pushed your way out of the classic car.

“Hey!” you heard Dean shout just before his hand caught your thin tank top, and pulled roughly to get you back in the cab. With all of your might you lunged for the gravel ditch, hard enough to rip your tank top clean open in the back and hit your hands and knees outside the Impala.

“Son of a bitch,” you heard Dean growl with enough rage to startle the yell from your throat,

“Officer _wait_!” you shrieked, crawling toward the back of the car, “This is Dean Winchester, he’s on your Most Wanted list and - he’s gonna kill me! You have to help me!” you made it to the back tire where you could see the policeman turned half around in the path of the cruiser’s headlights.

Heavy footsteps crunching up behind you were a surprise, you sort of thought Dean would just take off into the night. Apparently he wanted to make good on that promise of hurting you,

“Hey! Get up!” you curled up in the gravel at the sound of his furious roar, and shielded your head as panicked sobs burst from your chest. “What the fuck are you cryin' for? I haven’t even touched you!”

He sounded exasperated and if you didn’t know better, more than a little concerned, which was an odd emotion for a serial killer to express. . .The universal sound of a gun cocking made you both freeze,

“Stop right there Mr. Winchester, we’ve been waiting a long time to bring you in. Your brother nearby?” Dean stayed silent, and you peeked out from under your arms at him only to squeak in fear at the enraged glare he had trained on you.

Gravel crunched as the officer moved toward Dean,

“Hands on the car Winchester.” he commanded. As Dean complied he grumbled smartly,

“Aren’t you gonna call this in?” the sound of a cuff being snapped on one of his wrists made you brave enough to uncurl, but you furrowed your brow in slight confusion when the officer lead Dean over to the front of his cruiser.

Without giving Dean any time to react he bent down and snapped the other cuff onto the steel push bumper on the nose of the cruiser.

“The Hell are you doin’?” Dean growled jerking on the cuffs, you could see the unease in his face as he tried to work out what was going on.

“Now what’d you say your little sis’s name was?” the trooper turned and began walking back toward you with an unsettling smirk on his face. Dread pooled in your gut. Something was seriously wrong here. Dean answered suspiciously, apparently not connecting the dots as quickly as your woman’s intuition did.

This was a bad cop.

“ . . .” Dean answered uncertainly. You swallowed and watched the man approach you with wide nervous eyes. He was tall, though not as tall as Dean, and he looked strong. . . A lot stronger than you.

The man removed his hat when he addressed you and it surprised you for some reason that his head was shaved into a close buzz cut,

“Alright , up you get. I’m afraid I gotta take you in too.” he held out a hand, and even though your brain was screaming not to, you took it. He hauled you up with ease and led you past where Dean was standing, to the opposite side of the hood.

Your worry was reflected in Dean's green eyes, but before you could speculate much you were slammed down onto the hood of the car hard enough to make you grunt on impact,

“Hey!” Dean barked, jerking on the cuffs again. The air was knocked from your lungs and you took a moment to gasp for breath, hoping he was only _arresting_ you roughly. . . Hoping that this wasn’t turning into something else entirely.

Sadly your hopes were crushed when you felt the officer press his crotch into your ass insistently from behind, easily holding you down when you tried to jerk up and away.

“What are you _doing_!?” you screamed fearfully, crying out when he roughly humped you twice in a lewd foreshadow. You scrambled at the hood of the car, trying to hop onto it to crawl to the other side, but the man easily gathered up both of your hands and pinned them behind your back with one of his.

Rendering you virtually unable to escape.

“Don’t you touch her you son of a bitch.” Dean warned lowly. His words confirmed your fears, even _he_ could see what was about to happen,

“Get _off_ me!” you thrashed on the car, no doubt beating yourself up more than the officer. A deep chuckle from behind sent you into a whirlpool of fear, and you froze, breathing heavily and shaking violently.

“Atta girl. . . Name's Bo by the way,” he cooed salaciously, “been awhile since I’ve seen a sweet little thing like you out here.” a torrent of tears flooded from your eyes at that statement, and your breath hitched at the bawdy words. Metallic clinking clued you in that Bo was about to cuff your hands,

“No _no_. . .” you wept jerking weakly at his meaty hand just praying he would realize how wrong this was.

Dean was looking at you with a mixture of outrage and horror painted across his face, it made you wonder just what kind of bad guy he actually was.

The cuffs were cinched too tightly around your wrists, making you wince, but in your heart you knew it wasn’t going to be the worst thing that happened all night.

“There we go,” Bo's repulsive voice slithered into your ear, and he leaned down over you eliciting a whimper from your throat, “Now what say we have a little fun, baby?” again he pushed into your clothed ass, but this time there was a significant bulge that proved how fucked up this guy was.

You screamed at the feeling of his insistent erection, the knowledge that Dean was watching all of this made it all the more humiliating.

“Please don’t!” you begged loudly, squirming on the hood again, praying this night was all just a bad dream. Vaguely you heard Dean jerking on the cuffs again,

“Hey don’t panic ,” his voice was oddly low and soft, like he was trying to keep you calm. _Slim chance._ "It's gonna be alright, kid - " 

“Shut the fuck up Winchester, I like it when they squirm!” he barked loud enough to make you yelp, and then leaned back to grab hold of your thin leggings to unceremoniously rip them from your body.

The simple action reduced you to a sobbing fit, especially when you felt the cool night air on your ass, realizing he’d taken your panties along with them.

Dean was grumbling something, but you couldn’t hear over your labored breathing. When you snapped your thighs closed, Officer Asshole didn’t seem to appreciate it much. A loud crack of skin on skin rang through the night, and you squealed at the sting on your ass.

 _He spanked me. He fucking_ spanked _me._

“Open up bitch!” Bo growled angrily, but you kept your legs closed tightly with your ankles crossed,

“No no, please don’t - _PLEASE_!” you were sobbing and begging over the hood of the car, feeling absolutely overtaken with fear at what was about to occur. _Not like this. . . Please don’t let my first time be like this. . ._

Whimpers rode on every exhale, and you jerked at the feeling of rough big hands roaming your bare ass. . . trailing to your untouched sex. Feeling like you might throw up, you gently laid your head down on the cool metal and closed your eyes to try and block out whatever he was about to do.

Dean spoke up again,

“What’s the matter there Sheriff Storch?” there was a humorous tent to his voice, “You can’t get it up for the _willing_ ones?” you sobbed lowly, horrified that Dean was finding _any_ of this funny, and squeezed your eyes tighter allowing a few tears to press out.

There was no answer from the man behind you, but his fingers stilled just over your quivering pussy.

Dean continued talking as if a girl wasn’t about to be raped in front of him, his cavalier tone made you think of Sunday picnics and days at the lake. Not wanted felons, and dirty cops.

“And you’re just gonna _go_ for it like that? I mean I get the whole “takin’ her from behind on the hood of your car" thing, but _Officer_. . .” you swallowed a lump in your throat, the way he was speaking made you feel absolutely helpless. _No one’s gonna help me._

“You haven’t even seen the whole package. I mean - and I’m just saying this if it were me - but you haven’t even played with her pretty tits yet. And that’s just a waste.”

“Shut up!” you screamed at him, terrified that the rapist might take Dean’s advice and drag this out, “ _P_ \- _please_. Oh God. . . Oh God. . .” you shook with heaving tears, but never opened your eyes.

“Ya know. . . you're right, I oughta take full advantage of the bitch while I got her.” you were hauled up from the car by your hair, and you had to choke down a scream of pain.

Bo held you close to him with one hand, and circled the other around to pull off what was left of your flimsy tank top from when Dean tore it the first time.

When his hand came back the clasp at your bra, you snapped your eyes open and started struggling again in vain. Dean was staring levelly at Bo with a cocky smirk on his face, and he didn’t even steal a glance when your bra fell from your body.

Your stomach dropped at the falling sensation, when Bo roughly threw you to the hard ground.

You couldn’t even bring your arms up to break the fall, so you landed heavily on your chest, crying out when the rough asphalt of the highway scraped your breasts. Despite the hopeless situation, you immediately rolled to your side and began pushing yourself away from Bo's advances.

The loose rocks and rough road burned your skin, but there was no chance of you stopping,

“No - no don’t touch me! _No_!” you wailed, catching Dean’s eye momentarily just before Bo was on you, and he winked at you. Dean fucking _winked_. _What a disgusting son of a bitch._

But then you saw that he was jimmying the lock on the cuffs with obvious difficulty seeing as it was his left hand doing the work, nevertheless it sparked hope. 

It was clear his intentions for goading the officer earlier: Dean wanted Bo to turn away so he could get out of the cuffs. . . But that didn't necessarily mean he was planning on helping _you_ , it just meant _he_ was getting away.

Once the officer flipped you to your back it blocked Dean from your vision, which made you feel more panicked for some reason. . . You felt more alone.

"You ready for me girl?" his breath smelled like rot, and you gagged on the stench while sneered at the look of horror on your face,

“No - o - o,” you sobbed lowly, trying and failing to close your wide spread legs. There was a low growl coming from behind Bo, and it took you a moment to realize it came from Dean.

_He just growled?  
_

You wondered if it was just a fucked up pleasure growl or something.

You felt thick fingers at your opening and started crying so hard you couldn’t breath,

“Oh God please _don’t_ , I’m - I’m a _virgin_!” you shrieked, hoping to Hell it would curb him from hurting you for some reason. “P - please don’t hurt me. . .” he did pause for a second, studying your face with a sick grin as you wept, but just when your mind started to hope, he crammed two fat fingers home.

You _screamed_.

You screamed and wailed and sobbed and cried, but he merely became more aroused as he mercilessly pumped his rough fingers in and out of your pussy. It felt like sandpaper you were so dry.

All you felt was pain, there was no in and out sensation, no feeling the callouses on his digits, only blinding vivid pain. You couldn’t even tell him to stop.

“Fuck girl, you weren’t lyin’. You’re tight baby.” he panted above you, “can’t wait to stick my dick in. . .” with that Bo drug his fingers out, and began undoing his blue pants.

You were in a haze of fear and pain, realizing this wasn’t over. Not even close.

The jingling of his belt buckle drew your attention, and you watched through tear flooded eyes as he fumbled with the zipper to unleash his throbbing dick. Upon seeing it up close and personal like this, for the first time in your entire life, twisted your insides with fright.

It was big and _ugly_ and intimidating, and not how you pictured this going at all. Your teenage mind was repulsed and horrified. _This is will be my first time for the rest of my life. No changing it. No forgetting it. It will haunt me forever. . . and it will never go away._

Your thoughts gave you a bout of courage, and out of nowhere you began to fight again. With Bo on his knees above you, all you had to do was cock a leg back and sent it flying toward his weapon.

Every time you kicked out at him though you missed your target, and despite the shot of courage and valiant struggle, the big man was still much stronger than you; he had you pinned under him in no time at all,

“You’ll pay for that bitch,” he snarled in your face, biting the top of your breast with enough force to draw blood and a yelp out of you. “Now I _won’t_ be gentle.” without even realizing what you were doing you screamed,

“Dean!” it sounded desperate and helpless, but you couldn’t even feel pathetic at the knowledge that you were begging a wanted felon to save you. “Dean please help me. . . _Please_!”

You were sobbing again, writhing desperately beneath the man that called himself a cop.

The feeling of his cock sliding up your thigh made you still and choke on ragged breaths.

“Ready baby?” Bo mumbled in your ear. His breath felt like it was condensing on the side of your face, but you couldn’t linger on it too much with his large tip nudging your folds.

“We’re gonna count to three alright? _One_. . .”

“ _No_! No don’t. . .” you wept miserably, trying in vain to jerk your hands loose. The cuffs were cutting into your flesh and the highway was biting your bare skin,

“ _Two_. . .” he was so excited you wanted to vomit,

“Just let me go! Oh God _please_ don’t do this. . . _Dean_. . .” you cried for him again, knowing full well he was probably watching this little show with a smile. It only made you cry harder.

 _Men are sick. My Dad, Dean, and this fucking cop. . . They only want to hurt and take._ You decided to close your eyes wishing more than anything you would just die,

“THREE!” but it wasn’t _Bo’s_ voice that called the final number, no. I was a much deeper much more gravelly voice that tore through the night. It was _Dean_. And what’s more, no pain occurred directly after, instead you felt the man’s weight collapse on top of you making it impossible to draw a breath.

Surprise made you crack your eyes open then.

If you could breath you would have gasped at the sight of the huge knife protruding from the back of Bo's neck with deep red blood seeping freely from the wound and toward your chest.

It took you a moment to find Dean, and what you saw confused you. The man had a face flooded with rage that chilled you to the bone, but as soon as he saw you looking at him it crumpled into a look of pity, concern, and sorrow.

His gaze held the kind of compassion that made you wonder where the wanted _criminal_ went, and how he could just flip a switch like that. _He’s probably acting again. . . He’s good at that. . ._

"Jesus Christ. . ." he breathed while he studied the explicit picture before him. You blinked at him, his sudden change in demeanor was throwing you off. One second he was threatening you, and the next he was saving your life.

You noticed he had a cell phone up to his ear,

"Sammy? Sam we got a problem - " he paused listening, "Nearest motel - yeah on my way there. . . Get here as soon as you can."

Your head lulled to the side, and your vision blurred. Dean's brown work boots were the last thing you saw before dark spots started dancing in your eyes from shock and lack of oxygen, he stood by your head, presumably to roll the heavy body off of you, but you didn’t stay conscious long enough to see it.

Part of your brain was screaming that it was a bad idea to pass out with a man like Dean Winchester especially when his brother was thrown into the mix as well, but in the end it really wasn’t a choice. . Darkness choked your vision and you faded into a painless, senseless state of unconsciousness.

But not before you heard that voice calling your name,

“ ? . . . Come on stay with me sweetheart. . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, Angst, and Sam Winchester ahead! :) Plus Dean's odd behavior is explained in the next chapter!
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do NOT believe that all cops are bad cops, but there are a few of them, and the one in this fic happens to be. No offense intended :) 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are welcome! Thanks for reading!! Stay tuned to see how Dean deals with all this. . . And of course how you cope!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this darker fic ~


	2. "I saved you, didn't I?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Sam Winchester! Yay!
> 
> You wake up in a shady hotel to Dean playing doctor. Dean decides it's better for you to believe they're murderers instead of exposing you to the supernatural world. But a few slip ups and references from the men make you suspicious.
> 
> Sam comes into the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay fist off, I am SO sorry for the offensively long wait! I feel like such a bitch, but I hope this is all that you dreamed it would be. There is way more angst and hysteria than I would've liked, but I think it's realistic behavior for a girl in this situation :) 
> 
>  
> 
> I meant for this to be the last chapter, but in order to bring the story to a close there will have to be a 3rd. But that's it I promise. . . And Jesus no you won't have to wait like a month for it! So 2/3 of the way there! Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> *Pay attention to everything the brothers say, there are little slip ups and things that catch the readers attention.

Consciousness came slowly, you didn’t shoot up from the bed like you’d seen people do in the movies, you didn’t gasp with remnants of fear from your assault.

You just sort of cracked your eyes open slowly, and waited until the ceiling didn’t look so fuzzy.

In your groggy haze you almost forgot what happened to you on the highway, you believed for a few precious moments that you were home in your own bed waking up to a normal day.

And as depressing as those normal days were, you longed for them as soon as your memory caught up with you.

_Pain. Screaming. Terror._

You choked a little on the recollection. _I was almost raped last night. . . I was almost raped in the company of a nationally wanted criminal, and then I just. . passed out. Oh God where am I?_

Without moving a muscle, you studied the dimpled ceiling and took stock of yourself. There was dull pain, subdued hints of both sharp and achy pain all over your body and in your most private places.

Your eyes burned as the residual agony of Bo cramming his fingers into your virgin sex recollected in your mind, and if the burning down below was any indication, he tore something inside.

There was a light blanket draped over your body, which would have offered some comfort if you weren’t still completely _naked_ beneath it, and metal springs of an overused mattress prodded your scraped back uncomfortably.

Your eyes fluttered shut again, attempting to block out reality for just a few moments longer.

Honestly you knew in your heart that you weren’t alone, that there was a presence somewhere near you, but when you heard shuffling and crinkling of what might have been a paper bag, dread oozed into your gut.

The last thing you remembered was Dean speaking to what had to have been his brother on the phone telling him to meet him at the nearest Motel. He referred to you as a problem. And if a killer calls you a problem well. . . _you’ve_ got a fucking problem.

You didn’t mean to squeeze your fingers into a fist, but it was a natural reaction to your fear.

However another realization troubled you perhaps more than any of the others so far: your hair felt wet.

Your hair felt wet and you could smell the faint scent of soap, a sort of cheap smell like the kind you might find at a motel. Someone _bathed_ you.

“ ?” you inhaled sharply at the sudden deep voice, “Are you awake?” it was Dean, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. The question was asked only out of courtesy, because there was no way his voice was that close and he didn’t see you open your eyes the first time.

Before you could speculate much though, a rough hand was gently touching your arm, causing your eyes to fly back open against your will.

The hand immediately retracted, and through fuzzy vision you spotted Dean Winchester sitting at your bedside looking at you with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He looked no different besides the fact that he’d stripped down to only a black t-shirt and jeans.

“Dean?” good lord your voice sounded wrecked, it was raw from screaming and shaky with nerves. He only nodded with a crinkle in his brow, “Did. . . Did you w- _wash_ me?” that sounded weird coming out,

“Yeah,” you stiffened at his admission, “I had to get the dirt outta your cuts, they’re everywhere. Some are gonna need stitches.” you felt paralyzed, like none of your muscles were volunteering to move.

“Stitches?” that was the least important question and you both knew it, but he entertained you anyway.

“I didn’t want to risk you waking up in the middle and hurting yourself.” he leaned forward, drawing a loud creak from the chair, and resting his elbows on his knees. You swallowed thickly, glancing around the space.

You were occupying the only bed in the motel room, the bathroom was at the foot of your bed, still steamy from the bath, and the door was behind Dean to your left.

“What um. . .” you weren’t sure you could get the question out without crying, “What else did you do?” surprisingly enough you managed, but there was still wetness building in your eyes.

Dean looked affronted all of a sudden, his mouth dropped open and he straightened up like you’d just slapped him. His next words came out harsh,

“Are you asking if I fucking _raped_ you?” his raise in volume made you cringe and your answer came automatically,

“Well why _wouldn’t_ you?” you cried, suddenly hiccuping on some more insistent tears. _Just like all the rest, just like all the rest. ._ . Dean softened at that question, it seemed to sober him up a little and he finally answered you,

“No I didn’t. . . do anything like that to you.” he cleared his throat, “But I noticed that you do have some pretty significant injuries.”

“Then why am I not at a hospital?” you whispered quietly, and without wavering he told you in a serious tone,

“You know why.” you did know why, you’d seen him murder a man after all.

“I won’t tell anybody Dean. . .” it was so quiet, “I swear, just take me to a _doctor_. Please. . .” he was silent for a moment,

“I won’t risk it ,” then a tear did slip from the corner of your eye, but he ignored it, “I can fix you up just fine here. I’m practically a professional, my brother and I work on each other all the time after hunts.”

_Hunts?_ that was a strange thing to say, for some reason the way he said it clued you in that he wasn’t talking about animals, especially the way his eyes shifted around when he realized what he’d said.

“Where are my clothes?” you shifted a little under the sheet, completely floored at all the pain that came from simply tensing muscles. A loud sigh clued you in that Dean was growing tired of your insecurities, but you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable.

His irritation grated at your nervousness.

“In the trash,” he clipped impatiently, “what’s left of em’ anyway.” a quiet little sob bubbled past your lips, and you kneaded the blanket beneath your trembling hands, well aware of Dean’s unwavering stare picking up every little movement you made,

“You’re. . You’re gonna _hurt_ me aren’t you?” it came out shrill and high, catching you both a little off guard. He recovered quickly with an indifferent shrug,

“Only thing that’s gonna hurt are the stitches, and they gotta be done so yeah, I guess I am gonna hurt you.” it felt like he was avoiding your question somehow, like he didn’t want to acknowledge your worries because they made him uncomfortable.

Before you could say another word Dean abruptly heaved himself from the creaky old chair, and you gasped embarrassingly loud at the sudden movement, but he only paused for a minute before moving to the little table beneath the window by the door,

"Sorry,” he muttered before crouching down fluidly to dig through a black duffel, when he began pulling out first aid items, your breathing picked up in panic.

Each item was carelessly tossed up onto the table by the window: antiseptic solution, a needle and thread, gauze, ace bandages, a lighter, and some tweezers. Everything just looked like torture instruments right then, and you could actually feel your face paling as he continued yanking things out.

“I just wanna go _home_ ,” you whined fearfully, earning a sideways glance from the man. Honestly the idea of going home made your stomach churn, but you’d say anything to get out of this room.

There was too much being left up to your fear drenched creative mind here.

“Will you please just let me go home?” your voice cracked when the sharp glint of a knife being pulled from the bag caught your eye.

“I said no,” he rumbled as he continued crowding the table with various medical tools, “not yet anyway.” tears blurred your vision, his cavalier attitude was setting you further on edge.

_Murderer murderer murderer! He’ll kill you next!_ A little sob burst from your lips,

“Please, _please_ I just-”

“Jesus _Christ_ , I said no!” he barked loud enough to startle a yelp from your trembling body. Dean turned to pin you with narrowed green eyes, no doubt seeing silent panicked sobs racking through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered naturally, hoping the word would calm him like it did sometimes with your father.

“Don’t fucking ask me again.” while his words were harsh, his eyes were soft and held a calmness that made you blink in confusion. _This guy is a walking mixed signal._ You could only nod at him as an answer. With a heavy sigh the man turned back around, shaking his head like he was trying to knock a memory away.

_There’s no way this guy is just helping me out of the goodness of his heart. . Cold blooded killers don’t have hearts. Sure he saved me, but what if it’s not because he cares? Oh God. . . He probably just wants someone he can play with._

You swallowed hard. Dean already knew that no one was out looking for you, that no one would miss you, and that made you a perfect candidate for a kidnapping. There was not a cell in your brain that believed this was going to work out in your favor.

As if you weren’t scared enough, Dean’s voice replayed in your mind from last night, _"You haven’t even seen the whole package. I mean - and I’m just saying this if it were me - but you haven’t even played with her pretty tits yet. And that’s just a waste.”_

_God I’m gonna die here. . ._

Dean still had his back to you, currently filling a syringe with some sort of clear liquid with a concentrated look on his face. _Oh that can’t be good at all._ A surge of fear made you vault the rest of the way to your feet with the sheet clutched tightly to you aching body.

If Dean noticed the movement, he didn’t show it and that gave you an idea. A really _really_ bad idea. . _His back is to me now, if I can keep quiet enough maybe. ._ . A lamp caught your eye a few inches from your hand.

_Maybe I can catch him off guard._

If only you knew that Dean Winchester was _never_ caught off guard, least of all by an inexperienced civilian like you.

Before you knew it the cool metal base of the lamp was wrapped in your small hand, the jittery movements of the object made you realize just how hard you were shaking right then.

_He’s still looking away, yeah you just keep looking through your bag there. . . Don’t mind me at all._

With one hand holding the sheet to your body, and one prematurely poising the lamp overhead to strike, you tiptoed slowly up to Dean’s back, trying not to breathe at all in the process.

The urge to scream was almost overpowering, burning and shooting pains were firing off with every tiny muscle twitch, but the most worrisome pain was the stinging in the apex of your thighs.

_Hospital, I need a hospital. . ._ More damage was done than you originally thought.

Standing directly behind him, you really got to see first hand just how big Dean was, he was a whole head taller than you and fit - muscular really - those muscles could be seen rippling menacingly beneath his black t-shirt.

Your body was on fire, not just with pain, but with the adrenaline coming from the idea of attacking this man, what a stupid idea. _What if it doesn’t knock him out? What if he spins around and attacks me first?_

“You plannin’ on hitting me with that lamp sweetheart? Or were you just gonna stare at me all day. .” you froze at his deep voice, eyes wide and waiting for any sudden movement from him, but when he turned it was slow and deliberate.

However the violent gleam in his eye scared you so bad that the lamp slipped from your frozen fingers and shattered on the floor with a loud crash. While the man didn’t even flinch at the noise, it seemed to startle you into action, and you immediately began to back away from the hostile looking man,

“I - I -” you stuttered, feeling terrified tears spring to your eyes as he watched you retreat across the room.

When your back hit the wall you yelped at the friction on the deep cuts back there, while Dean glanced at the ruined lamp by his booted foot. He licked his full lips disapprovingly,

“Well that was disappointing,” it came out on an easy sigh, like being threatened was his element, like he was completely at ease. Even when he strode toward you cowering on the wall,

“That’s all you got, huh?” you were fidgeting at his advances, eyes darting around for some kind of escape, but there was none.

“I - I wasn’t gonna hit you. .” you whispered stupidly, like there was another perfectly good reason for sneaking up on someone with a lamp. While his green eyes still glinted with dark anger, he smiled a sort of condescending smile,

“ _No_?” he chided, coming to a stop a mere six inches in front of you. _God he is huge. . ._ You sniveled then and looked down so he couldn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes,

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, terrified of the man before you, “P - _please_ don’t hurt me.” the last word broke on a sob, the idea of someone inflicting even more pain on your battered body was just too much to handle.

But he _would_ hurt you wouldn’t he? After all he had just caught you trying to kill him with a lamp. . . Both hands were clutching the sheet to your trembling chest, knowing in your heart that it was barely protecting you from him when it came right down to it.

Another sob broke out of you, and you dared to bring a hand up to wipe at your nose shakily,

“Hey. .” you flinched even though Dean’s voice was surprisingly soft, but you chanced a look up at him. His brow was knit in concern while he watched you barely hold it together in front of him, and his mouth was slightly open like he wanted to speak. . . but he didn’t.

Instead he lifted a big hand out toward you. And you didn’t believe for a damn second that hand meant you anything but harm,

“No!” you jerked away so violently that you tripped over the sheet and hit the floor with a thud, then you scrambled hard into the bedside table letting the tears you’d been fighting loose.

To your ever increasing horror, the clumsy evasion pulled the sheet clean off of your body, exposing every inch of your scratched up and bruised skin to the older man.

However he didn’t seem at all fazed by your sudden nakedness, in fact when you forced your teary eyes up to him he had both hands up in a placating gesture of peace.

“Hey calm down sweetheart. . .” he murmured gently as he took a slow step toward you curled up against the nightstand, “Everything’s-”

“Don’t come near me!” you cried desperately, trying to scooch away from him even though the table made it impossible. All you could see was potential sinister intent and every way Dean could hurt you if he so chose, trust never came easy to you and after last night it was likely gone forever. . .

At least it felt that way.

“I’m not trying to scare you, I really just want to help.” he spoke slowly as if you were a toddler, which in this scenario, you sort of felt as fragile as one. When you answered it was a whisper,

“Then. . . I’m leaving,” you started uncoiling your legs timidly, “If you really want to help you’ll let me _leave_.” his jaw locked while he watched you get to you hands and knees, the coarse carpet burned your skin.

Not wanting to waste another second, you choked back a pained cry upon standing, and hedged around him to the waiting door.

He didn’t even look at you, wasn’t even watching you go. Dean was as still as a statue as you made your way by. It was surprising to you that he hadn’t even commented on your declaration or made a move to stop your departure.

_Could he really be letting me go?_

You didn’t want to hope, but with every step you couldn’t deny the feeling blooming in your tummy. At first you thought you’d really make it when you ran into the solid wood frame and began to fumble with the chain latch on the top, but before you could even grip the knob Dean’s heavy palm came up against the door.

He didn’t even bother blocking the latch or the knob, just simply leaned his his thickly muscled weight against the the door and waited. You were frozen, breathing ragged, pinned between the big man and the only chance at escape.

“I’m sorry , I just can’t let you leave yet.” how sinister that sounded to your ears, in that deep husky voice of his.

That close you could smell the faint scent of aftershave, it was spicy but there was also a hint of whiskey about him, like he had been drinking recently. You shuddered.

_Daddy was always the worst when he drank. . ._ The heat of him seemed to seep into your slashed up back, it felt oddly comforting against the cold chills of fear.

Although it was pretty clear that you weren’t going to get the door open, you still gave it a couple valiant tugs that did nothing other than make your sore muscles ache. _He’s too heavy. This door won’t open._

You screamed in frustration and fear at yet another failed attempt at safety, but something about the stillness of his hand on the door, and the calmness of the Winchester made this failure seem final.

“J - just let me _go_ ,” the words came out soft, a plea really in the tense silence of the room.

“I’m not doing anything to you,” he rumbled, “I saved you didn’t I?” you were well and truly trapped by his firm body from behind and the unopenable door to your front. . . but he was right, he hadn’t really hurt you yet.

“What do you want?” fuck, you just wanted him to move away from the door, he was too close, and you felt too vulnerable in your state of undress. It took a moment for him to answer,

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he told you, you could feel his warm breath hit the back of your neck and you shivered, “let us take care of you and then you can go.”

“You’re lying.” you whimpered fearfully, “You’re a murder, you’re gonna kill me I know it! Or - Or worse. . .Oh _God_ -” you sobbed suddenly, finally feeling terrified tears spring into your eyes.

He sighed heavily at your blatant panic, before speaking measuredly,

“No. I told you-”

“All I wanted was to get away from Daddy, and - and you seemed trustworthy enough but then -” you choked on air and pushed yourself further into the door, “then you turned out to be a wanted _criminal_! And the man that was supposed to _protect_ me tried to _RAPE_ me, and now I’m back here with you! And I - I need a fucking hospital!”

You were sobbing now, weeping into the smudged door, staring at peeling paint through your tears. After a few moments of silence from Dean, you felt his hand lightly cover your bare shoulder.

He felt hot to the touch.

You were unable to stop the way you startled and slammed your body into the door, fearing what that contact meant, not thinking for a second it might have been for comfort.

“Don’t _touch_ me! Please don’t. . .” you begged, curling slightly making yourself dangerously close to sliding to the floor. The hand left instantly.  ****

A sudden knock on the thin wood vibrated your cheek and made you whimper, but you stayed pressed to the cold smooth lumber. It was either that or back up into Dean, and to you there was really no option.

“Son of a bitch Sammy, perfect timing as always.” the irritation in his growl made you shake, tears were still flowing freely down your cheeks.

“ _Dean_?” a softer voice came through the door, he sounded confused, “Why won’t you unlock the door?” Dean sighed heavily,

“It's open but just give me a sec Sam I gotta get her away from the door. . . She’s not taking this too well.” he called then spoke lowly to you, “I’m gonna get you your sheet, alright? Come here.” the big hand was back on your shoulder and you jerked out from under it, plastering yourself to the door again.

When he grabbed at you again, you surprised yourself by throwing an elbow back suddenly with the intent to get him away from you,

“Fuck-” he cursed when your pointy joint came into contact with his shoulder, and you had to bite back a cry when pain exploded in your arm on impact. Dean still didn’t move away,

 “Don’t do anything stupid kid, I don’t want to have to hurt you.” the subtle threat was said through clenched teeth, and you felt queasy realizing that now your only options were to submit and do as he said, or fight him.

And you really didn’t want to fight him, but there was also a part of your brain reminding you that Bo had come so close to raping you last night because you didn’t have the courage to fight until it was too late.

You weren’t going to make that mistake again.

If this was happening it was gonna be because there wasn’t a single thing you could do to stop it, that way when you thought back you would know in your heart you tried everything.

That you fought hard and didn’t just let him take.

So you _had_ to. . . You _had_ to fight.

People often underestimate just how hostile a terrified woman can be, especially when cornered like you were. So when you whirled to face Dean, you managed to catch him off guard when you mustered every ounce of reckless courage, and cocked back to haul your fist up to the much bigger man’s face.

You connected.

Dean most likely wasn’t expecting you to lash out like that, so your first punch hit him solidly in the chin, making him grunt and stagger back one step while you let out a cry of explosive pain from your hand.

_Holy shit, landing a punch fucking hurts!_ But you weren’t gonna let that stop you, especially when you got an eye full of the blood freezing rage on his face.

“Dean?” Sam sounded worried now, and you heard the knob behind you clicking,

“Hang on Sam,” Dean touched his lip and pinned you with a glare that made your heart stutter, but you were in deep now. _God I’m in over my head. . ._ Why _did I choose fighting again?_

Again you swung, with your left hand that time, but Dean was ready.

He easily sidestepped your hit and gripped your wrist somewhat lightly, while simultaneously twirling you so your bleeding back was pressed against his front. In order to keep you from twisting out of his hold, he grabbed your right wrist to secure you to him and just barely managed to avoid a headbutt from you by tucking his head low.

Still the man wasn’t hurting you, which you thought was odd, proving just how warped your expectations were when it came to men in general.

You thought for sure Dean would immediately go for the knockout as soon as you hit him the first time.

“Goddammit what did I say?” he grumbled mostly to himself, but your brain called up the last thing he’d said, which just so happened to be the most threatening thing as well. _“Don’t do anything stupid kid, I don’t want to have to hurt you.”_

_Well shit._

“No no _please_ don’t . . . I’m sorry - I’m _sorry_ , please!” you begged him, mentally kicking yourself for picking a fight with someone like Dean Winchester.

“Easy, _easy_. .” his gruff mumbling was oddly soothing as he slowly leaned his weight down on your tender back, forcing you gently to the carpet until you were on your ass and he was crouched behind you, essentially bear hugging you to keep you still.

Your body was tensed and waiting for pain,

“ _No - no - no_. .” you whimpered pleadingly, afraid of his retaliation to your brainless attack. Because he would retaliate right?

“Dean!” Sam called from outside, “I’m coming in damnit.” the knob twisted in the background and the walls shuddered as the newcomer slammed the door behind him.

Dean had you with your backs to the door so you couldn’t see Sam just yet, but he could see you.

“There we go, easy girl. . .” Dean spoke easily while your muscles were straining against his, trying fruitlessly to pull your arms out of his vice grip, and your breaths were coming out harsh and labored from the panic of being completely enveloped by this man.

“Jesus Dean. . What. . .” Sam’s voice was airy as he took in the scene before him, and you felt Dean shift to look back at his brother,

“I told you she ain't takin this well. At _all_.” when he turned back to you his breath was hot on your ear, the fabric of his t-shirt scraped your tender back, and the rough callouses on his hands scratched at your arms.

His jean clad knees were lightly squeezing your waist to keep you still, and the denim rubbed your bare skin there reminding you that you were still very much naked. You tugged on your arms again, whimpering as the lingering adrenaline wore down to a chilling fear base,

“Get _off_ me!” you screeched, wriggling in his tight hold.

A sob broke on your breath when he didn’t loosen his arms. He moved his head a little, scraping his stubbled cheek against your ear,

“Relax. Then I’ll let you go alright?” he was still calm as ever, not even straining a little to hold you still. He had complete control over your body. Your mind shot back to last night, the inability to fight or move, the way Bo’s breath hit your face with every exhale, his hands bruising flesh wherever he grabbed you.

The _pain_.

“No get off me now!” you cried desperately. Your chest was quivering as your slammed your knees together and drew them up, you crossed your ankles as if it would prevent either of them from just forcing your legs back open like Bo had.

And then you were crying loudly again, completely helpless in the company of both Winchesters,

“Please. . . _please_. . .” you sobbed, “I’ll do anything - I’ll do _anything_. Just _please_ let me go. . .” the words were pathetic - born from helplessness - and burned coming out, but desperation was settling in.

Dean’s breath was even, chest rising and falling steadily against your back, his calmness was only drawing more attention to the way your body was trembling violently in his arms, but he just sat there until every little smidgen of courage you’d gathered disintegrated there on the scratchy carpet floor.

Until you were just softly sobbing, submitting to his unyielding strength.

“Shh, shh you’re alright sweetheart,” he murmured softly as the tears kept coming. _Dean can do whatever he wants, just like Bo, just like my Dad, and what’s more? I actually punched him, which he probably isn’t too thrilled about._

The next words came out so quiet it was ridiculous.

“I’m - I’m sorry I hit you. I- I’m just scared. . ” there was an intake of breath that didn’t come from the man behind you, no it came from _Sam_ , the mystery man who had yet to show his face.

Despite your words, Dean knew exactly what you were getting at,

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, it’s all gonna be okay. . . You’re fine kiddo.” the big man was barely rocking you forward and back with his body like you were some overgrown baby. . . It was actually kind of soothing.

After a quiet moment he spoke again,

“You alright?” _no of course I’m not alright._ You swallowed,

“The sheet. . .?” you asked in a raspy voice from crying and he immediately called his brother,

“Sam grab that sheet over there would ya? Let’s get her covered back up.” just before Sam walked into view Dean told you, “ , this is my kid brother Sam.”

And as soon as your eyes landed on Sam, you felt Dean tense up for some kind of reaction. And a reaction it was. The term _'kid brother_ ' didn’t really do Sam justice, in fact, there was nothing “ _kid_ ” about the man at all.

There, walking to the edge of the bed was a giant.

An absolute fucking giant was bending down to grab the sheet and looking at you like you were the latest exhibit at O.M.S.I., and you weren’t cool with that at all. _At. All_.

Immediately you began to struggle again, but this time you slammed your eyes shut like it would block out reality somehow. Of course the muscled arms held you pretty still once again, so there wasn’t much you could do to get away.

“You gotta relax kiddo,” Dean rumbled from behind, “I know you’re scared but please. . You gotta trust me, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you okay?” his voice was so soft,

“Last night. . .” the two words just fell out but they carried so much meaning. Last night Dean had watched as you came so close to being raped, watched as some horrible pig tried to steal your innocence away, the only real innocence you actually had anymore.

A hard pained swallow from him jolted you a little,

“ _God_ I’m sorry. . .” he murmured tracing circles where he held your arms, “I’m so sorry.” you inhaled a choppy breath and felt yourself relaxing a tiny bit for the first time since you woke up.

The voice addressing you next was a lot softer than Dean’s and less deep, but by no means less masculine,

“Hey ,” you cracked an eye open and looked up from the carpet to see Sam carefully moving toward you with the sheet hanging from his hands. Now that it was unfurled you could see the dark red smudges spattering the once white fabric. . . _Ruined, just like me_.

The feeling of Dean’s steady breath and strong heartbeat on your back was lulling you into an odd sort of comfort haze, and for the moment you would allow it, realizing just how exhausted you really were.

So as Sam approached the two of you tangled up on the carpet, you weren’t really afraid for a blissful moment. But of course just a moment was all you got.

As you watched him, his big brown eyes seemed to catch something that had them widening in concern, and his head tilted to the side as he studied whatever it was.

“Shit. . .” Sam whispered, his eyes seemed to be zeroed in on your feet, but you knew better. The man was looking at whatever was tickling the inside of your thighs, whatever was trailing down your skin to the dirty carpet.

“Sam?” Dean softly spoken words rumbled deeply in his chest, he shifted to try and get a look at whatever Sam was staring at but couldn’t manage the angle, “Sam what are you seeing?”

It was like he was in a trance as he came closer to you, dropping to his knees when he got within arm's length with a open mouthed look of horror painted on his face. When his arm extended forward, you pushed back into Dean, trying to curl in on yourself even more,

“S - _Sam_. . ?” that was the first time you said his name out loud, and it caught his attention immediately. The hand between you dropped and his eyes connected with your watering ones, instead of speaking to you he spoke to Dean,

“How long has she been bleeding like this?” the tone of his voice was all business, and Dean matched it,

“Since last night, how bad is it?” Sam glanced at you momentarily,

“I can’t tell yet, I’d have to get a closer look.” you locked up all over, feeling Dean squeeze your wrists again like he was preparing for another struggle.

“Go ahead,” he grunted, “I got her.” there was no point in fighting, Dean would easily hold you in place and all that would result is more pain from straining your body, but you jerked on your arms anyway.

“No!” you growled through clenched teeth, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Hey just relax,” Sam implored, once again reaching out for a leg, “I’m only gonna look, alright?” _No not alright, not alright at all. Just looking huh? Then what. Just touching? Just fucking? Just killing? No._

_Nope._

“I said _no_ ,” you curled up tighter, sinking backward into Dean with your knees pulled up. Neither man seemed to hear you though, and as a big hand cupped each knee you reflexively kicked out, catching Sam in the chest with one foot and under the chin with the other.

“Get away from me!” it caused him to back off a little, but the angry flash on his face made you wish you wouldn’t have done that. _“I couldn’t help it!”_ you wanted to scream, “ _I told you to get away_!”

When Dean spoke next it was more of a growl, apparently he wasn’t too thrilled about you kicking his brother either,

“Goddamnit I thought we were over this. Sam grab the -” he paused and looked down on you seriously, “you allergic to opiates kid?” _Opiates? He’s gonna sedate me?_ The threat totally deflated your spunk,

“Oh God. . .” you sobbed, suddenly going slack in his grip, “Don’t _drug_ me! _Please_ \- I’m sorry I won’t fight anymore. . . I _swear_. . . _PLEASE_!” Sam fluidly rose to his full towering height and moved to the table, plucking the syringe from the array of supplies Dean set up.

You started to struggle again, fearing more than anything being drugged in the company of the Winchesters.

“Come on sweetheart,” Dean rumbled in your ear, all anger seemingly gone, “this is gonna help you relax, that’s all.”

Seeing Sam approaching with the syringe reduced you to a sobbing mess as you tried to push yourself back into Dean again for protection, he wasn’t the one who just got kicked in the face after all.

“No! _No_!” you wailed, “I’m sorry! I swear I’ll do anything you want - _anything_! You don't have to do this!” there was hesitation all over Sam’s face, sparking hope for a moment until Dean shifted you around to pin both of your arms to your chest with one of his.

He reached for the needle,

“Gimme,” he snapped his fingers when Sam didn’t do it right away, and as soon as Dean took the needle you went limp, weeping hopelessly into his hard bicep with your eyes squeezed shut.

The things that were coming out of your mouth only made sense to you as he popped off the plastic cap in his teeth,

“I swear, I swear, I swear -” you were babbling senselessly, jerking when someone grabbed your leg to hold it still for the injection. “ _Please_. . .” you sobbed once more, “I don’t wanna be knocked out. . . I’m _scared -_  Dean you promised. . .”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was soft, “Maybe we don’t have to knock her out, she’s just scared.” he repeated your words.

You didn’t dare open your eyes yet, but it felt like Dean wasn’t moving at least. The plastic cap thudded on the floor when he spit it out,

“You gonna calm down kid?” he asked gruffly, “Or are you gonna try and fight me again if I let ya go. . .?” no you wouldn’t do that, it was pretty obvious how well that worked out the first time,

“No - I mean _yes_. I’ll calm down.” you sniveled, wetting his bare arm with your tears with every muscle on high alert as you waited for the painful little pinch in your leg that let you know you were screwed.

But it never came.

Instead you felt Dean’s whole body heave with a giant sigh that blew your hair into your face with the force of his expelling emotion.

“Alright then. . .” the tone of his voice clued you in that there was about to be a catch, “you gotta let Sammy take a look at ya first.” your chest hitched and you kept your face buried in his arm,

“No. . .” you whined quietly, knowing there was no other option. It was this or the opiates, “Please, I - I _can’t_.”

“It’s this or the drugs. What’s it gonna be?” Dean voiced your worries and Sam was quick to butt in,

“Dean go easy would you? Jesus,” his voice took on a softer tone when he spoke to you, “ ? All I’m going to do it look, okay? I promise I won’t touch you.” the kindness in his voice gave you the courage to open your eyes and look up at him. . .

Fuck you were never getting over how giant he was.

You blinked away the salty water from your eyes,

“Promise?” your voice was so tiny when you asked, and even though there were parts of you screaming to get away - to not give in - there was another part of you that was just tired of fighting.

That just wanted to believe these two were good. _Even if they aren’t you’re not escaping anytime soon, there’s a needle full of sleepy juice poised right over your thigh genius._

Sam fluidly lowered down to his haunches at your level, the expression he wore as he studied you caught you off guard. It wasn’t _rage_. It wasn’t _lust_. It wasn’t threatening at _all_ actually.

Sam was gazing into your eyes with a kind of sorrow and compassion that you’d never seen before in all of your 19 years. There was an emphatic sadness that had you wondering if your words hit a button on him, if maybe he’d experienced the same type of hopelessness you were feeling now at some point in his life.

Although it was hard to imagine a man like Sam ever feeling vulnerable.

But Dean was the one who broke the silence,

“No one’s gonna hurt you sweetheart.”

“I don’t believe you. . .” you couldn’t believe how hard you were shaking, “Everyone _always_ wants to hurt me. . You’re just like them, just like all the other men.” then you thought for a second,

“Only you two might be _worse_ right?” you swallowed and neither of them answered for a moment, before Sam leveled you with a puppy dog stare.

“Listen, I know you’re scared, but I swear we didn’t bring you here to hurt you okay? You have my word. Don’t you think we would have already done something by now?” his words made sense once you actually thought about them.

Sure Dean had murdered the shit out of Bo right in front of you, but he deserved it right? He was trying to rape you. . . Really the only thing that was frightening you was that you didn’t know a thing about these men, only that they were wanted criminals.

At least you thought so. . . But wanted for _what_? You had no clue. . . And there were times when Dean didn’t even seem like the kind of guy that would be wanted nationally, like right now as he was caressing gentle circles into your arms waiting for your consent to make sure you were okay.

It was all so confusing, but you made the decision to focus on the fact that both of the brothers concerns seemed to lie with your well-being at the moment. And to be honest you really did need some medical attention.

So you said the word before you could change your mind,

“Okay.” Sam just blinked at you,

“Okay?” it was disbelieving and unsure, but you nodded,

“I - I know you have to. . . There’s something wrong, it hurts a lot.” even right now when you weren’t really moving there was a dull throbbing ache deep within you. Sam’s glassy eyes somehow progressed to another stage of pity,

“Alright, I won’t touch you. . .” he seemed as unsure as you, “Just - just um spread your knees. Wh -whenever you're ready I mean.” you were grateful that the man couldn’t manage eye contact either, instead he was watching your knees with a furrowed brow and tight lips.

Dean cleared his throat behind you and shifted around uncomfortably, and for some reason the fact that both men were also nervous about this made it a little easier.

With shaking knees and stuttering breath, you willing parted your legs for Sam, and this soon after the attack it was one of the scariest things you’d ever done in your life. Dean must’ve felt how violently you were trembling, because he flexed his arms around you and began to trace little circles where he held you,

“Shh, shh, you’re alright sweetheart. . .” he was whispering softly, a constant stream of reassurances in your ear until you were spread wide in all of your naked glory for Sam’s searching eyes.

His sharp inhale wasn’t comforting in the slightest,

“Oh Jesus Christ.” he whispered lowly,

“ _What_?” you asked shrilly, frightened at how concerned he looked.

“Do we have any pain killers?” he asked instead of answering,

“Yeah Sam, what’s the problem down there?” Dean sounded at ease despite the situation, and all you wanted to do was scream _“YEAH SAM WHAT’S THE PROBLEM DOWN THERE?!?!”_ but you barely managed to hold off,

“Well it’s not _good_ Dean,” he looked like he wanted to reach out and touch you for a moment, but he caught himself, “like if it keeps up like this, we might need to try and stitch something if we still can’t get a hold of Cas.”

You paled.

_Stitches down there? One of them giving me stitches. . . Down_ there _?!_

“Shit.” Dean hissed into the back of your head. “Alright let’s get started on her back.” he tightened his arms around you and rose to his feet, standing you upright along the way before finally releasing you.

The sudden freedom made you stumble a little bit, and you limped over to the bed feeling a little dizzy from all the screaming. _Wait. . . No this couldn’t just be from screaming. . ._

The whole room seemed to pulse and sway as you gingerly lowered yourself to the bed, falling sideways on the mattress as soon as you sat down. _What the Hell is going on?_

“Um. . . Dean?” Sam was watching you with a furrowed brow,

“I had to Sammy it’s the easiest way to stitch her up without a fuss.” _no_. . .

“You _didn’t_!” Sam sounded outraged, and when you tried to turn your head to see Dean, you found with some concern that you couldn’t move a muscle,

“Yep, just poked her in the side while you were giving your little speech. Didn’t feel a thing.” _Oh my God, oh my God!_

“She’s gonna freak out when she wakes up! We were getting so close to gaining her trust, now she’ll never warm up!” you tracked his flailing arms with your eyes that were now tearing up at your situation,

“What do you mean wakes up?” Dean asked incredulously, “She isn’t unconscious, she just can’t speak or move for a few hours. Perfect patient if you ask me.” a huffed snort came from Sam,

“You’re unbelievable.” Somewhere near the kitchenette Dean barked a laugh, and you heard the clicking of the dreaded medical supplies, “but I guess this will make getting her back to the Bunker a lot easier.”

_Jesus they’re taking me somewhere_ else _with them? A bunker? That doesn’t sound creepy. . . not one bit._

“I know. I’m going to Hell. . . again.” _now what the crap does he mean by that? Again? He’s already been?_

Sam crouched down to your eye level, sighing at the tears dropping to the sheets. He gently wiped them away,

“I’m so sorry sweetie,” he muttered with that furrowed brow, “you aren’t gonna feel a thing, and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.” _Like that fucking matters._ They drugged you against your will! Hello!?!

“I want to take you home with us, just until you heal. . . From what Dean’s been telling me on the phone, it sounds like yours isn’t really an option?” the hitching of your breath was probably as good as answer as any.

Sam nodded understandingly. Now all you could do was lay there hoping they didn’t decide to get handsy, and why wouldn’t they? You were now the perfect victim: can’t scream, can’t run. . . _God why did I trust them for a minute?_

Hands on your waist and shoulder made you automatically try to scream “ _no_!” but all that came out of your parted lips was a strange little squeak.

“You’re alright babydoll, I’m just getting you on your belly for the stitches in your back.” Dean told you like it was no biggie, “You don’t even have to feel em’ now, isn’t that nice?” _yeah I’ll be sure to thank you later with a big friendly kick to the nuts._

Sam surprised you with the good sense to drape the sheet over your ass and thighs while Dean worked, and it made you feel a little more secure. Right then every little bit counted.

Dean was right though, there was no pain while he stitched up your cuts, only a rhythmic little tug every time he pulled the thread through.

They spoke to you the whole time, talking nonsense and telling stories about their lives that _might_ have had you giggling if you could fucking _function_. But their deep voices were lulling you into a sort of sleepy haze, that had your eyelids drooping heavily, that is until Dean said something quite revealing,

“Yeah once we had this nest of vampires-” he stopped abruptly, and from where your head was tilted you could see Sam gaping at him, “ _fuck_. . .”

“Dean!” Sam hissed at his older brother, your breathing became heavy again in confusion and worry.

“I know I know. Goddamnit.” he grumbled, “Okay um. . . see we’re LARP’ers and what we do is dress up once a month or so to go act out Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the park. Sam’s Buffy of course.”

_Nope bullshit. These guys definitely didn’t LARP, and if Sam’s face was any indication, he wouldn’t dress up as Buffy._ Dean actually had the audacity to chuckle,

“What? Would you rather be Willow? You pretty much have the hair. . . Only cool witch I’ve ever heard of.” there it was again, an accidental slip up.

They were definitely hiding something and it was looking more and more like _craziness_. All Sam did was scoff at Dean’s comments, and then they acted as if nothing odd was ever said, as Dean finished up your stitches.

You weren’t letting it go. Not a chance.

Something was up with these two guys, and you were gonna find out what. Right after you got movement back in your limbs. But for now. . Sleep sounded so nice. . .

“Lay down a few layers of towels down in the backseat would ya? I don’t want blood all over the leather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think so far! I don't want to make any promises about when the third and final chapter will be up but it will certainly be this month! 
> 
> Again thank you for being patient:) Castiel comes out to play for the next chapter. Reader and Dean hash out their differences. She finds out about the Hunting life . . You should be excited! 
> 
> Comments and suggestions welcome as always! Thanks again, hope you enjoyed~


	3. "Humans are the worst kind of monster."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader sets out to figure out the Winchesters. Not an easy task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reader is a little more clear headed in this chapter. Conflicted about a lot of things yes, but she seems a bit more stable - even going as far as developing feelings for Dean. :) She encounters the two brothers and the angel relatively separately, getting a feel for each man uniquely.
> 
> Of course the Cas meet up is a little rattling. Why wouldn't it be? Enjoy!

_Thank God I’m light on my feet. . ._

The thought made you give a tiny little _smile_ of all things as you tiptoed around yet another bend in the seemingly endless cement corridor.

It seemed like you had woken up at least a half an hour ago in an unfamiliar plain room, and it took you close to another half an hour to work up the courage to get out of bed and find the door in the darkness.

It led you into a cement hallway with four more doors lined up on either side, but you didn’t dare go into on of those. . .

Just in case.

The Winchesters had taken it upon themselves to dress you. . well _sort_ of dress you that is.

Walking through the halls in an over-sized flannel with nothing else underneath might seem scarce to a normal person, but after showing off your birthday suit to anyone with eyes for the past 36 hours it felt like a pair of turtleneck footie pajamas.

A little coverage went a long way at this point, and seeing as the shirt came almost down to your knees, there was nothing of import on display. However the drafty stone hallways were a little chilly on your bare skin.

Finally after walking like a mile through the dark twists and turns, it opened up into a big room with two wooden tables in the center. One of the lamps were on so it gave the otherwise eerie quiet some much needed warmth.

_This has to be the Bunker Sam was talking about. . ._

Looking up a curved staircase to the door only confirmed your suspicions, you were definitely underground. A fleeting thought of escape crossed your tired mind, but for some reason you decided against it.

The brothers were both sound asleep, not monitoring you, not holding you there against your will, just trusting that if you did wake up you would decide to stay. And thinking about it _logically_. . . You didn’t know where the Bunker was, going home wasn’t an option, and you had no money or clothes.

Sure going to the police was an option, but that seemed like a rash decision since they took care of you. . _. right?_

_Umm, they drugged your ass remember?_

A little coal of anger heated at the reminder, but cooled when your stitched up back throbbed with dull pain. _Then again I didn’t have to feel_ that _happening, so that’s a plus. . ._

So on the off chance that the Winchesters really _were_ straight shooters, you made your way slowly over to some shiny steel double doors that had to be the kitchen. On cue your empty tummy screamed at you with an impatient rumble, but it was hardly noticeable amongst all the other unpleasant sensations going on in your body.

You _ached_.

You ached everywhere; every little joint, muscle, and stitch hurt but the only thing you could fix right that second was your hunger. Then you would work from there. The kitchen was spotless, so clean that you worried for a moment there might not be any food in it. . .

You were used to clutter and mess, dirty dishes piling up in the sink until you took it upon yourself to wash them, because God knows _he_ would have never done it.

Your father was a horrid man.

But lo and behold after a jarringly painful stretch up to the high cupboards you found bread, and a quick excited look into the big refrigerator produced meat, lettuce, and cheese.

It was probably the fastest sandwich you’d ever whipped up, you didn’t even bother with condiments or closing the fridge before you shoved it into your face.

“ _Mmmmm_. . .” the moan was muffled by sandwich, and you took another giant bite almost before you even swallowed the first, grateful that you were alone for this show of borderline barbarism.

The coke on the top shelf was yours as far as you were concerned and you grabbed that before setting your half eaten sandwich down to make yet another sandwich. You couldn’t remember the last time you ate so much, but worries of potential weight gain wouldn’t slow you down today.

 _Or was it night. . ._ the clock on the oven read 1:12 a.m. _So nighttime then_.

Besides you could honestly afford to put on a couple pounds, before you left home your ribs were beginning to show. . . Depression is really a life-sucking illness.

Scarfing down the remnants of your _first_ sandwich and cracking your coke, you picked up the second one and moved back out to the main room without even cleaning up after yourself, intent on figuring out just what type of dudes the Winchesters actually were.

_First stop: Book shelves._

There were dauntingly tall oak shelves overflowing with ancient looking books on. . . _Leviathans? Angels? Greek Mythology? What the Hell?? **"Only cool witch I’ve ever heard of."**_

You swallowed a huge bite of sandwich, gaping at the vast literature wall of monsters, myths, and legends. **_“Yeah once we had this nest of vampires-”_ **

Your wide eyes hit a lore book on different types of Vampires, and scanned over it to a thick book entitled _“Hell’s Demons”_. **" _I’m going to Hell. . . again.”_**

Setting your coke down on the table, you scanned your surroundings for anything else out of the ordinary and landed on a leather bound beat up journal on the corner of one of the tables.

Of course you made you way over to it without so much as an opposing thought. _Might as well snoop, I mean they did basically kidnap me._ As soon as you touched the worn black leather, you knew it was something very important, that it would greatly impact the way you viewed Sam and Dean as soon as you laid eyes on the contents.

But you were willing to do anything to make sense of the two at this point, because all you had on them now was potential murderers. . . who are also willing to take care of a sexual assault victim?

A rather _difficult_ sexual assault victim you might add. . . You did get a punch in after all.

_Yeah that is some confusing far fetched shit._

The journal creaked when you opened it and on the first page there was only a single name written in black pen:

 **John Winchester**.

_So this belonged to a family member. . . Their dad maybe?_

However preposterous your theories on the brothers might have been at that point, there was nothing that could have prepared your mind for what you found upon flipping the brittle page.

Monsters. _Loads_ of them. . .

All different kinds, species actually, their weaknesses, their M.O., hell even free hand sketches of the things. And it seemed like it was never ending. Notes from John made you feel sick, they were stories of close calls and lucky antidotes to poisonous creatures you knew nothing about.

Toward the back of the journal there were notes and summaries of what this man referred to as ‘Hunts’ including Sam and Dean when they were young. Then something

Dean had said back at the motel resurfaced in your mind, _ **"I’m practically a professional, my brother and I work on each other all the time after hunts.”** _

_Hunts_. _So this is what he meant. Jesus Christ how can I believe this? It has to be the ramblings of a crazy man. . ._

But it was so intricate and detailed. . . You thought maybe you’d gotten through the whole book without blinking once, sandwich forgotten in your tense hand. One of the last entries peeked your interest even further if that was possible

 _‘having the boys start journals of their own. . . I’m gettin’ the feeling I might not be around much longer.’_ despite that chilling statement though, it looked like John was recording hunts for a solid three more years before you started flipping through telling blank pages.

You gaped at the yellowing empty paper. The half eaten sandwich was shaking in your hand, and it felt as though you might be sick, but there was one thing on your mind now. . . One reckless, possibly idiotic thing:

 _I need to find one of their journals_.

You weren’t sure why it was so important to you to make sure this streak of batshit ran in the family, but the way those words just jumped out at you reminded you of a mystery movie. So in honor of Nancy Drew, you would follow the clues until you solved the mystery.

The "Scary Monster Riddled Winchester Mystery".

********

Clutching John’s leather bound journal to your chest, you tiptoed quickly through the corridors, unsure if you were really headed in the right direction.

Finally you rounded a corner to see the familiar row of doors, and allowed yourself to breath a sigh of relief for a moment before you embarked on your suicide mission. However a familiar sound of a knob twisting pricked your ears, and you threw yourself back around the corner just before the door across from your room opened.

Taking a hesitant peek around the bend, Sam was tiredly ducking out of his room, rubbing the sleep from his half lidded eyes as he moved in the opposite direction as you.

Seeing as it was only like 2am the giant had to be using the bathroom or something. . . And since he was going around the far corner it might give you just enough time to--

You sprinted out into the hall as soon as Sam disappeared and hastily slid into his slightly ajar door without a single rational thought.

The stupidity of this plan hit you like a ton of bricks when you turned to take in the man's room. It smelled lightly of cologne and was oddly plain for someone to be inhabiting it. . _Are they actually living here?_

You shook the useless thought away and scanned around for anything that might help you piece together this strange puzzle. _Hurry hurry hurry, he could be back any second!_

You scurried around frantically, opening his wardrobe, checking under the bed, and opening his bedside drawer only to come up with clothes, shoes, and condoms. As a last resort you slid a hand under his pillow, recalling that it was where you kept your diary so your father wouldn’t see it.

The cold smooth feeling of steel surprised you, and even though you sort of had a feeling when you flipped the pillow, a shiny gun staring you in the face still startled you a little bit.

“ ?” you gasped and whirled around so quickly you knocked into the bedside table and sent a candle crashing to the stone floor. A splitting stinging pain shot through the place between your thighs at the sudden movement, but you managed to bite back a pained cry.

“ _Shit_!” Sam was staring at you with the door halfway closed behind him, looking rightfully suspicious of you. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ “Nancy Drew would have never put herself in this situation. . .”

Only when a corner of his mouth turned up did you realize you’d said that out loud, and you reddened at your geekiness.

“What are you doing in here?” it wasn’t harsh like you expected, but when he closed the door the rest of the way and stepped closer you couldn’t help the way your chest tightened a little bit.

“I - I. . .” you were at a loss. His eyes flickered down to the journal still clutched to your chest,

“Is that _dad’s_ journal?” his gestured and came closer, prompting you to hold it out quickly as a peace offering,

“Sorry,” you whispered worriedly, “I shouldn’t have read it. . .” but Sam was grinning,

“It’s a little bit of a shock isn’t it?” he didn’t really expect you to answer, “So are you going through my room looking for clues then? The whole Nancy Drew reference kind of gave you away.”

Unless you were mistaken it looked like the huge man was biting back a laugh. Definitely not expecting this reaction.

“You. . . You’re not _mad_?” the journal was still hanging in the air between you. Sam scratched the back of his head,

“No , I’m not mad.” if the words weren’t sincere enough his smile sure convinced you. “Curiosity can make people do some crazy things.” he glanced at the journal, “Why don’t you hang onto that for a little while?” you brought it back to your body,

“O-okay. . .” _What is going on?!?!? Why isn’t he hitting me, or - or yelling? Isn’t that what men do. . .? Why isn’t he angry?_

“Why?” you blurted, earning a head tilt from him. “Why are you being so nice to me?” you swallowed wondering for a fleeting moment if this was some kind of sick game, he would gain your trust and strike when you least expected it.

_That was Daddy’s favorite one to play._

“Why wouldn’t I be?” his words were careful and his brow was furrowed,

“Because your a man.” your answer was quick and thoughtless, “You don’t do that. . . be nice I mean.” his face expression absolutely crumbled into one of devastation.

“Who. . . , who told you that?” _why is he behaving this way?_

“Nobody told me,” you whispered, suddenly unsure. “it’s just. . . always been that way.” he took a pained looking swallow and carefully closed the distance between you, looking like he wanted to touch but not quite allowing it.

“I’m not - _we’re_ not like the others okay?” he nodded imploringly, “Nobody here is going to treat you like anything less than human, do you understand?” you blinked at him, acting so gentle and worried. . . _Could it be genuine?_

“So. . . No _hitting_?” he pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head once, “No hurting?” the same response, “No. . . No yelling?” he looked up over your head for a moment of silent pondering,

“Yeah,” he finally decided, “Dean likes to do it a lot.” but the way he made it sound wasn’t scary. _So yelling is normal then_.

Sam took a heavy seat on his mattress and ran a hand through that long brown hair,  

“So what were you searching for in here then?” _oh yeah that’s right, I’m investigating._

“Oh um, in John’s it said that he was gonna get you and Dean to start journaling just in case he died. I -I was looking for one. . .” Sam winced twice, once at his father’s name and once at the mention of death. _Whoops_.

“Mine is in the dungeon right now. . .” he muttered almost to himself, looking thoughtful. _Did he just say dungeon?_ “but Dean always keeps his in his dresser. . in the top drawer.”

Suddenly there was a tickle down your thigh, commanding your attention and you looked down. _Great_. Two crimson lines were making their way to your knees down the insides of your thighs, like a couple of long creepy fingers reaching out.

The sandwich and a half rolled in your tummy.

“Oh God.” you breathed, instantly feeling humiliated, “I’m so sorry this is so disgusting. . .” you naturally tried to stand in such a way that hid your injury from Sam, giving him a sideways sheepish look while your face turned almost the same color as the liquid on your thighs.

His face was grim,

“How are you feeling ?” when his brown eyes connected back up with your (e/c) ones it was harder than ever to lie. But you still did,

“I’m fine.” it wasn’t very believable so you added with a shrug, “I must’ve just moved to suddenly and irritated the tear inside.” Your voice was so dead that it almost disturbed you, but Sam showed no trace of judgement while you spoke.

He let a lapse of silence make you question your answer before swallowing and telling you,

“You know, you don’t have to be fine right?” he knew. He knew that their wasn’t a particle of your being that was “ _fine_ ”. “What you’ve gone through is enough to tell me that you aren’t okay for a little while.”

He waited for that to sink in with a patient expression while he watched you from his spot on the bed. _Could he really care this much? It would feel so amazing if somebody would actually care_.

“Okay then I’m not fine Sam,” your voice cracked and you could feel the floodgates cracking,

“My whole body hurts, I’m afraid of _everything_ , my dad fucked me up in the head, I -I have been either attacked or hurt by every man I’ve ever known, and all I want is to stop bleeding so that you and Dean don’t try and stitch me up down- down  _there_!”

You sobbed at the thought of that happening. Sam’s face never changed, not when your voice started to raise, not even when your tears started to flow. . . And you thought absentmindedly that he was probably a fantastic poker player. You continued your tearful rant,

“And now. . . Now you’re telling me there are monsters and ghosts running around out there wreaking havoc on the world and that you and your big brother hunt them down and _kill_ them?! All while running from the law?”

You wiped your nose and just allowed yourself to completely break down.

You deserved the right to act like a psycho after all. You let your emotions talk for you and babbled senselessly about every little worry that came to mind, including the fact that you’d eaten their food without asking and by the time it all boiled down to a normal volume and slowing tears the last thing out of your mouth was,

“-- and I didn’t put any of the food away. Sorry.” he actually allowed a little smile to grace his face then, and made sure you were all done before he spoke.

“First of all, eat whatever you want -we don’t care.” he was so calm, and it made you feel kind of childish for unloading so aggressively, “Second, Dean and I probably won’t have to stitch anything uhm - down below - since you weren’t bleeding before, it probably means it’s healing so you’re just gonna have to take it slow until you can fully recover.”

Well that was a relief,

“And third, , you’re father didn’t mess you up okay? You can get past him now. . . Dean and I are nothing like him do you understand?”

“Yes. . .” your answer was meek,

“Good. Dean and I didn’t do anything to get on the Most Wanted list by the way, they were shapeshifters posing as us. They killed hundreds of innocent people with his and my face pasted on, so you have nothing to worry about in regards to the criminal thing.” you only nodded,

“Now do you want me to give you something for the pain?” he stood from the bed without waiting for an answer and dug into a duffle bag sitting on his desk,

“I don’t want it to put me to sleep again. . .” you tiptoed over to him and were relieved when he pulled out a container of pills instead of another needle,

“It might make you drowsy but you should get some sleep anyway.” he dumped two in his hand and held them out to you, “It’s Tramadol, it’ll get rid of the pain pretty quickly.”

So you took them, deciding that living with pain out of pure stubbornness was closer to idiocy than nobility.

“Do you think it’s alright to go get Dean’s journal?” you rolled the pills in your palm, watching them clack together,

“Uhh yeah, but either wake him up right away or don’t wake him up at all. . . We don’t really take surprises too well anymore,” he said it will an airy chuckle, “don’t worry though he sleeps like a rock usually.”

“Thank you Sam.” you smiled softly up at him, wondering not for the first time why he was being so nice to you. His eyes flickered down to your thighs,

“Oh uh actually I have something for that too,” you reddened again, but he was being amazingly professional, “come with me to Charlie’s room, she’s got some underwear and uhm. . . pads I think. She left them here. I - It felt weird putting them on you while you slept. . .”

The way he got all flustered when he spoke of such horrors was kind of endearing, and it made you smile while you followed him from the room back into the one you woke up in.

_So this was Charlie’s room. . . Interesting._

“Sorry we didn’t give you your own yet, this is the only other one with sheets and stuff right now.” _he wants to give me my own room?_ “Alright top drawer for underwear and everything else should be in the bathroom,” he really looked at you then,

“ just get some sleep, we can worry about everything else tomorrow okay?”

“Yeah okay,” you lied. There was no way you were sleeping tonight after all of this, not alone anyway, your mind wouldn’t quit with all of this new information.

Sam gave your shoulder a squeeze and walked out of the room, scratching his head and yawning - leaving you standing there with John’s journal feeling unsure as ever.

_In what world would I not go steal Dean’s journal right now? There’s no way I’m sleeping anyway._

********

_Top drawer, top drawer, top drawer. . . God this is a dumb idea._

You tiptoed stiffly and soundlessly across the pitch black room. Dean’s soft snoring gave you confidence that he was in a deep sleep for the time being, and you absently listened for that rough intake of breath while you moved for where you thought you’d seen the dresser in the light of the hallway a moment ago.

Feeling lightly with your fingertips, you felt the smooth wood of the chest of drawers and ran your palms along it to find the brass knobs.

Cool metal met your skin and your hand closed around it, gently pulling the heavy drawer open. You were so focused on the task at hand that you hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten behind you.

 _Too_ quiet.

The Hunter had stopped snoring.

Completely oblivious to your surroundings, you blindly pushed your hands into the open drawer, feeling cotton boxers, socks, and. . . something metallic and cold to the touch.

There was also a solid form that had to be the journal so you immediately pulled that out and hugged it to your chest with one arm.

Furrowing your brow you then gripped the mystery object and lifted it from the sea of underwear. As soon as you heard the jingling, and felt the circular shape in your hand you knew what it was.

 _Handcuffs._ Out of nowhere blood freezing fear dropped hard into your stomach, so violently you actually whimpered a little.

_The cop - the road - the terror._

The jingling intensified as your hand began to shake with the horrible fear coming in threatening flashbacks, all you needed was a second to calm down. But of course you weren’t given that privilege.

A huge hand closed around the back of your neck and slammed you so roughly into the dresser that the top drawer smashed closed.

You screamed in pain and terror, dropping the cuffs to the floor with a sharp clatter, somehow you managed to hold onto his journal.

“ _Dean_!” you cried shrilly, feeling hot tears spring out of your eyelids. At the sound of your voice the man released your neck immediately, and you crumpled to the floor as if your bones turned to jelly.

“Shit!” he hissed in the darkness. Just like that, everything Sam had told you about was chased from your brain by insecurities and panic. You started to sob, believing that Dean was pissed at you for waking him up and catching you snooping.

His voice was laced with tension, and you could hear his bare feet pattering around in the dark.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. . .” he spoke to you like you were a child, until the room was finally bathed in dim light from his bedside lamp. He was only about three feet away from you, standing in nothing but a white t-shirt and boxers.

Tears were still coming loudly, and the man looked close to horrified at your reaction.

Doing the only thing you thought would make him happy, you extended the journal out to him with a trembling hand,

“I’m sorry - S -Sam said it would be okay-” you were cut of with a hiccup and Dean stepped forward, accepting the journal only to toss it lightly on the bed as he crouched down to your level.

You pushed back hard into the dresser, wondering how angry he really was,

"D-don't! Don't do anything to me. . ." you sobbed, reverting to that scared girl on the road, "Please don't Dean!"

His green eyes were locked with yours, still dark from sleep but absolutely distraught at the sight of you cowering away, begging him not to hurt you again.

“Hey hey, no it’s alright, you just surprised me is all. . .” he looked a little sheepish, “I didn’t think it was you in here.” his eyes flickered over to the handcuffs beside you and he plucked them off of the stone floor.

You stopped breathing at the action, and the color seemed to drain from your face.

“What-” Dean paused when he noticed your silence, but you were watching the cuffs in his hand with wide eyes filled with alarm. Your burning lungs spasmed with a sob,

“Please - _please_ don’t,” it came out a clipped and pleading whisper. All you could picture was the man slamming you to the floor and cuffing you like Bo had.

Dean seemed confused for only a moment before the light bulb went off, he dangled them in front of your face and watched you hide your hands behind your back like it would stop him from getting to them.

“ ,” his voice was stern and forced your eyes back to his, “these aren’t for you okay? I won’t hurt you, not like that. Not _ever_.” you were still sniveling even as he rose to deposit the cuffs back into his drawer, still shaking when he took hold of your arm and hauled you from the floor, and still frightened as he lead you over to his bed and grabbed the journal.

“I’ll let you take this, but you gotta promise me you’ll wait to look at it tomorrow. Just get some sleep tonight okay?” he moved to the door, and you followed him back to your room,

“You alright in here?” his voice was gruff, and you didn’t turn to look at him in the doorway.

“Yeah,” you lied quietly, wishing more than anything that you wouldn’t be left alone anymore.

“Okay. . .” it was clear he didn’t believe you, but didn’t want to push it. “Holler if you need anything.” the sound of his fading footsteps and closing door made your heart sink and you turned to plunk the leather bound book on the bedside table.

A sort of strange fluttering sound ignited behind you, and you immediately thought that Dean must’ve come back.

The hope in your heart disappeared when you turned and basically brushed your nose across a starchy blue tie on someone's chest. A _new_ someone. A stranger wearing a white collared shirt.

You found yourself too frozen to even back away, all you could do was tilt your head back to take in the mystery man who appeared so silently in your room.

“Hello ,” his voice was somehow deeper than Dean’s, full of power and very intimidating - just like his unwavering stare. His gorgeous blue eyes were narrowed in curiosity, his mouth pressed into a thin line while he studied your gaping expression.

“Do you not speak?” not right now maybe, because when all you wanted to do was scream for Sam or Dean you could only manage little catchings of air from your throat.

_Why is he standing so close? How does he know my name? Why does his hair look like just woke up??_

“You’re trembling,” he muttered, breaking eye contact while he roamed your shaking body openly, “have I done something to trouble you?”

"Who - ” your voice broke on a echoing sob that would’ve made a normal person wince, but he remained disturbingly unfazed. However when he shifted a little closer to you it spurred your frozen muscles into action, and you stumbled back away from him, tripping over your feet and hitting the floor like a clumsy sack of potatoes.

“SAM!” you cried, hating the way this guy watched you so intensely,

“DEAN!” Then ignoring every scary movie you’d ever watched, you all but threw yourself under the bed, crawling frantically while your tears flowed. A big hand around your ankle made you scream and sob,

“No don’t _touch_ me!” you plead desperately, trying to kick him off, “ _Please_!”

“Calm down ,” the gravelly voice sounded again, and you were effortlessly drug from underneath the bed along the smooth cement,

“Let go of me!” you sobbed, batting at his arms and chest as he pulled you under him, “D- don’t _hurt_ me! Dean, Sam, please!”

“Cas?” Sam was at the door looking rightfully freaked out, you watched Dean bump into him from behind while rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What the Hell are you doing?”

“You called me to heal her, is there a problem?” you had stopped hitting him, but couldn’t stop crying as he hovered over you looking a little confused. _Why aren't they helping me? They know him. . . Oh shit._

 Castiel absently gripped both of your wrists to your chest and pressed them down firmly so you couldn’t attack anymore,

“Be careful man, would ya?” Dean chastised tiredly, and you didn’t miss the way Cas’s hackles raised at the tone,

“As commander of the garrison, I think I can handle one distraught human girl Dean.” he all but growled. _Garrison? What the Hell?_

“I mean be careful with _her_ genius, she’s been through a lot.” he clarified,

“Get him off of me!” you finally found your voice, your very high pitched wrung out voice. Cas spoke to you then, much more gently than he did to Dean,

“That will not be necessary, I mean you no harm.” he shifted a little so he wasn’t pinning you down so forcefully, “I am an Angel of the Lord, now if you’ll allow it I can heal your injuries."

“A - _Angel_?” you repeated dumbly,

“Yes. . .” he eyed you curiously while you openly gawked,

“Why don’t you have wings?” you questioned accusingly. Dean snorted in the doorway at your question and you felt your face heat up a little in embarrassment,

“I have wings, they just can’t be perceived by the human eye-”

“Whatever man, I’ve seen em’ in shadows a shitload of times!” Dean interrupted belligerently, causing Cas to tilt his head in subtle annoyance. He still only spoke to you,

“Besides the shitload of shadows.” if you had been drinking water, you might have done a spit take at hearing a real-live Angel curse. _He is nothing like I would have imagined. . ._

“Now if you’ll allow me.” two fingers came up by your forehead and you tensed terribly, absently jerking on your wrists still gripped in his hand. “This will not hurt.” he assured you with a light trace of empathy gracing his features at your distrust.

Despite the assurance you still turned your face to the side and squeezed your eyes closed when he moved them to your skin. You whined fearfully when you felt contact.

Cas was right though, there was no pain. Warmth spread through your body focusing immediately on every cut, bruise, or tear you had. The feeling made your eyes fly open with a gasp, then it was over.

He removed his fingers with a pained expression,

“What’s wrong?” you asked worrying that he couldn’t heal you completely or something,

“Would you like to know what your injuries were?” _so that’s why he’s upset,_

“No. . . I think I already have an idea.” he nodded and raised smoothly to his feet, offering a hand to you that you took gratefully. Honestly you were still marveling at the fact an Angel was standing in front of you.

The trench-coated man gently lead you to the edge of your mattress and helped you under the covers while you just stared at him,

“Is there something abnormal about my face?” he questioned after settling you beneath the blanket, it was amazing to not be in pain anymore,

“You’re an Angel. . .” he took on an exasperated look, turning back to Sam and Dean for help but receiving only poorly muffled chuckles,

“This is difficult to comprehend,” he finally said, and it wasn’t spoken like a question.

“I - I didn’t believe you existed anymore. . . Not after . . Not after everything.” you swallowed back strong emotion, battling to hold it together in front of Cas. There was pity in his eyes,

“You’re father is a broken man ,” your eyes snapped up to his in shock. _He knows?_ “He loves you very much, but. . . the passing of your mother made him lose his way. I’m truly sorry for all you’ve been through.”

“You. . . You _knew_?” you whispered feeling sparks of anger build in your belly, “You knew and you didn’t _help_ me!?!” the hold you had broke and you screamed at him,

“I prayed every night until I was thirteen! Prayed that he would stop hitting me - that he would get better - and you all _heard_ me!?” a small nod was all you got from him. The Winchesters had moved into the room at your outburst, sorrow filled their eyes.

“How could you just _leave_ me there. . .?” you whispered, feeling the tears you’d been fighting gently spill, “I was just a little girl. . . How could you? I was stuck there for fifteen years. Fifteen fucking _years_. . .”

You shook your head, hiccuping on a sob but not allowing it control.

“It isn’t my job to intervene whenever a human’s life becomes difficult,” the words - while not spoken unkindly - felt like a slap in the face,

“Get out.” your voice was monotone,

“,” he sighed, “I’m sor-”

“Get _OUT_!” you cried, and with a tiny gust of air he was gone. You put your head in your hands and tried to relax. _The guy just healed me for Christ’s sake. . . And I screamed at him like a brat. All those years someone heard. . . No one helped._

“ ?” that was Dean. You looked up to see both brothers hesitating near the edge of the bed, “You alright sweetheart?”

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that. . .” you sniveled, and Sam closed the distance immediately, enveloping you in his strong arms without hesitation. It felt nice.

“No. . . It’s alright, he’ll get over it.” Dean was quick to interject,

“Cas is a good guy, he means well. Just try to remember that kid.” Sam gave you one more squeeze and backed off toward the door with Dean close behind,

“Try and get some sleep alright?” Sam practically begged,

“Yeah if you wake me up one more time tonight, there will be Hell to pay.” Dean said it with a smile though, a smile that made your insides melt. _God he’s attractive. . . No stop that, you barely know him._

With one last parting wave Sam disappeared into the hallway,

“Night Sam. . .” you called belatedly, hearing a quiet mumble down the hall.

“Want the light on or off?” Dean had his hand on the switch, and you hesitated, wishing that you didn’t have to be alone in the dark.

“Um off I guess.” you shrugged, trying to stay casual in front of the hardened Hunter.

“Night kid,” he rumbled with a sexy wink before snapping the light off. Your face fell. Absently you wondered if Dean really thought of you as just a kid. . . You were attracted to him, and maybe it was just his flirtatious nature but you thought he might be attracted to you too.

Sure he was ten years older than you, but shit like that hardly mattered these days. And what could you say? You had daddy issues,

“Do you really think I’m a kid Dean?” the question came out without permission, and you had no follow up. “I mean, you know I’m 19 right? Twenty in a few months.” in the dim light of the hallway he smirked at you in such a confident way that you instantly felt like a dumb little girl.

“Oh believe me sweetheart, I know.” well damn if _that_ wasn’t suggestive.

The look in his eye made you want to squeal, but there was a sudden sort of unexpected shot of fear straight through your veins. _Sam said they aren't like the others, they aren't like the others. . ._  

It repeated in your head like a mantra but the thought of him crossing the room and forcing himself on you, caused you to abruptly flop down on the mattress, pull the blanket over your head, and flip over to face the wall.

“Night Dean -” you squeaked nervously, hoping your sudden anxiety wasn’t too obvious.

All he did was clear his throat uncomfortably before the door was shut and you were plunged into darkness.

 _Alone_.

********

You could have been lying in the dark tense and afraid to move for hours, or maybe it was only a few minutes. However long you’d been there that odd fluttering of wings came as a relief,

“You are troubled,” that ridiculously deep voice informed you suddenly in the silence. Even though you knew he was there it made you jump a little,

“Yeah,” you sniveled quietly, “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.” you admitted. Castiel walked relatively silently before the bed dipped slightly to where he perched on the side,

“It’s understandable I suppose,” he grumbled softly, “Is there anything I can do?” you swallowed, wondering if he already knew what was bothering you. When you were silent he suggested something so simple,

“Would you like to talk about it?” _Yes_. God you wanted to talk about it so bad, and with Castiel, an Angel, maybe it wouldn’t feel so weird,

“I - I don’t know.” you murmured uncertainly, wiping at a stray tear, “I feel like I’m being a baby about this whole thing. . .” it was honest and it made Cas stiffen,

“Why would you say that?” his tension frightened you a little even though it wasn’t really directed at you. He was so powerful, could probably kill you with a snap of his fingers, but he chose to patiently listen to you - a hurt girl - cry,

“I wasn’t even really r - _raped_ ,” it was still hard to get that word out, “people go through way worse everyday and don’t say a word about it. He only used his f-fingers. . . but I can’t st - stop _crying_.”

Even as you said it your voice was high with threatening tears. You felt the big man turn on you then, the blanket was pulled from your face and he rolled you by the shoulder to look at him. You allowed it.

“Listen to me,” he rumbled deeply, “none of that matters. It wouldn’t even matter if he didn’t get your clothes off, do you understand? No one deserves to be attacked like that. No one.”

Still deep down, you felt like you didn’t deserve all this coddling. When you only looked to his blue tie in the dark he continued,

“Look at yourself , I’ve seen grown men with less cuts and bruises than you, shamelessly beg for death.” you balked a little at his choice of words, wondering what scenario that occurred in,

“You are strong.” the force with which he said it almost commanded you to believe it, but you were still unable to look at him,

“I’m never gonna be okay Cas.” you whispered it so softly, but it still echoed eerily off of the concrete walls. Hearing his name on your voice for the first time seemed to do something to him,

“You will.” Cas whispered it too, so softly you had to look up. His eyes were focused on your face, glassy with anguish, he was resting his arms gently on his knees. He didn’t simply say it, it was a promise.

You were going to be okay. Really.

“I still can’t believe an Angel is talking to me right now.” you laughed a little probably passing as insane, but he nodded with a soft smile,

“It must be a lot to take in,” he agreed,

“I haven’t been afraid of the dark since I was ten, but now that I know all of the monsters I was scared of actually exist. . . I mean I’m hiding under the freaking _blanket_ right now.”

You chose to censor yourself in front of him, even though he outright cursed earlier.

“I’ve seen almost every breed of horror in my existence, have been possessed by Leviathans, gone to Purgatory. . .” your eyes were wide in a mixture of wonder and terror, “but there is something I’ve learned through all of it that will either serve as a great comfort or certain misery.”

He leaned in slightly like he was telling a secret, he had you at complete attention, ready for whatever pearl of wisdom the blue eyed Angel was about to dish out,

“Humans are the worst kind of monster.” a little gasp passed your open lips and that tiny little smile played at his lips again. All you could do was nod at him, he was standing signalling that it was time for him to go,

“Wait. .” you sat up quickly, “I - I don’t want to be alone.” the admission had you reddening under his unwavering stare,

“Something tells me Dean would have no problem sharing a bed with you. Goodnight . I hope you’ll stay here with Sam and Dean, they’re good men . . . We want nothing more than to heal you.” and with that he was gone, leaving you dumbstruck.

_They want me to stay with them? For how long? Dean would share a bed with me? . . .Did he mean it like that?_

Whether or not Cas meant for you to take Dean up on the non-existent offer, you were too shaken to stay alone and get any sleep at all. _Humans are the worst kind of monster. . . Jesus had he meant for it to sound so sinister?_

********

The walk to Dean’s room next door was surprisingly long and slow. . . You were nervous. He did explicitly say that he didn’t want to be woken up again, but going back to your room now was simply too daunting.

There it was. The wooden door that held your savior inside. . .

Maybe part of the feelings you had for him had to do with the fact that he killed someone for you, and helped you after years of no one bothering. _Who cares? It doesn’t have to be weird to need comfort after something like this, right? Right._

_Get in there._

With a deep shaky breath, you twisted the knob and nudged the door open slightly, half worried that he would freak out again and attack you by accident. Should I say something?

“ ?” Dean’s deep tired voice called from the darkness, and the lamp switched on again. He was twisted around in his bed looking at you with half lidded eyes and messy hair from his pillow.

You tentatively stepped into the room, twiddling your thumbs nervously. Dean was quiet.

“I - I um. . .” you struggled to find the right words,

“Come on spit it out,” oh great he’s grumpy, “I was dreamin’ about tits and (h/c) haired women, so what’s the deal?” _I have (h/c) hair. . ._ you shook the thought away quickly,

“Um. . .,” _maybe if I go back to my room now it won’t be so bad. . ._ “Never mind, sorry Dean.” you turned to scurry out the door,

“Wait!” he barked and you froze, “ _Wait_ goddammit. . . I’m already awake sweetheart, just tell me what the problem is.” when you turned back, he was sitting up in bed.

The way he was looking at you, all tired and crabby, made it easy to picture the little boy he once was. With freckles and pouty little lips - the thought had you smiling despite yourself,

“What are you grinnin about?” the question brought you back to the present,

“Nothing-” you said too quickly, probably coming off creepy, “I um. . I c-can’t sleep. I’m. . . scared.” you finished with a sort of defeated sigh. _Always scared, always a coward._

Now it was your turn to look like a little kid, standing there in your over-sized flannel and bare feet, looking vulnerable and lost. And then you saw it. Dean was smiling. . . he had to have been thinking it too,

“What are you grinnin’ about?” you mimicked him which only made him smile wider,

“You’re just. . ah never mind.” when you only stared at him, he finished with a lady-killing stare, “beautiful.” your eyes must’ve popped and you had to swallow a couple times before you could say,

“Oh.” Beautiful. No one had ever called you that before. Sure, cute and pretty were said often, but beautiful. No never. With a loud clearing of his throat, Dean broke the tense moment and scooted over in his bed, patting the space beside him casually.

“Well come on then,” you stood frozen. _This is what I came in here for right? So why can’t I move now. . . God what is wrong with me?_

“You alright sweetheart?” you blinked back into focus to see Dean watching you with concern laced into his features. _Am I alright?_ A little nod was all you could manage and you made your way over to the edge of his bed in a sort of bashful fashion.

Placing a knee on the bed, you raised your gaze to see him watching you with an odd look in his eye. . . A sort of hungry look that made your pulse quicken.

Swallowing back that insidious fear, you shimmied under the covers and stretched out flat on your back with the comforter pulled up to your chin.

Dean chuckled before reaching over you for the lamp switch, the sudden closeness made you inhale sharply and close your eyes tight. . . It was involuntary, but Dean must have noticed because the light stayed on and you could feel his body heat hovering over you.

“ .” you whimpered at his voice and pulled the covers up to your nose. _Why am I so afraid. . ? There's something wrong with me. . ._  You cracked an eye open to see him basically on top of you, looking down with a furrowed brow.

The vulnerability he was making you feel caused your body to begin to quake, he had to be seeing it.

“I -I’m sorry,” and you really were, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” your voice cracked, but you managed to keep the wetness in your eyes. He didn’t move from above you,

“Are you sure you want to sleep in here with me?” he asked with a raised brow, “It might be easier to sleep alone.” _Alone_.

“No!” you burst suddenly, and reddened instantly at the forcefulness, “I don’t want to be alone right now.” he nodded watching you intently as he stretched for the lamp again.

This time he made it to the switch, and the room was plunged into abrupt blackness. The bed rocked as he flopped back down to his side,

“You still alright?” he questioned after he got under the covers. You were stiff as a board,

“Yeah.” you lied, praying he wouldn’t make you leave. Sure this was scary for you, but it was better than going back to your room to brave the nightmares alone. Dean rolled to his side facing you, his breath hit the side of your face but he was still pretty much invisible.

The man wasn’t touching you which was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment; it would feel nice to be held by someone, to be protected, but you weren’t sure the rugged Dean Winchester was the man for the job.

It could have been seconds or hours you were laying there on your back waiting for something to happen before you heard soft little snores coming from him, he had fallen asleep.

_Maybe he won’t notice if I just get a little closer. . . Just enough to feel him there._

Ever so gently you scooched toward him, inching across the bed at a painstaking pace so as not to wake him. The first touch made you halt with uncertainty, but after a deep breath you moved closer until your side was pressed up against his front.

He was warm, so warm, and his heartbeat on your arm was surprisingly comforting to you.

Dean smelled good too, like you would expect the hot guy on the football team to smell, spicy and musky all in one. You inhaled deeply, wishing more than anything he would talk to you.

_This man killed for me. . . And he didn’t even know me yet. Here is safe, I’m safe._

You finally rolled so your back was to his front, daring to shimmy closer to him, but as soon as your ass touched his crotch he stirred a little. His arm draped over your middle, pinning your arms to your sides and trapping you against the mattress.

A little squeak escaped when he sleepily pulled you flush against him, enveloping you with his body. His chest rumbled with a tired groan, the vibrations made you relax a hair against him,

“Dean?” you whispered nervously,

“Hmmmm?” his answer surprised you,

“What - what are you doing?” you asked, wondering if he was really awake or not,

“You’re warm. . . smell like flowers,” he grumbled hazily. With an awkward twist to look at his face, you squinted through the dark to see his eyes were in fact closed. He was talking in his sleep,

“Wanna. . . keep you safe. . .” your heart swelled at the words,

“You’ll protect me?” tears pricked your eyes, hoping to God he would say yes. Hoping to God someone would say yes.

“MmmHmm. . .” he confirmed, shifting so you were even tighter against his body. “Always. . .”

You snuggled in, relishing the feel of someone holding you like that. Remembering what comfort felt like.

“Dean?” you asked,

“Hmmm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” it was the same question you asked Sam, but Dean gave a different answer,

“I like you,” you swallowed waiting for more, “want you to stay. . .” your heart swelled.

“I like you too.” you whispered to the sleeping man.

“Hey sweetheart?” your eyes snapped wide open at his very clear voice. _That son of a-_

“I’m glad to hear that.” was all he said while you were just dying with embarrassment.

“Really?” you twisted to see him again, meeting his eyes in the dark,

“Really,” his full lips suddenly pressed against your nose, silencing you with shock. He pulled back leaving a warmth on the tip of your nose that spread through your body eliciting a shiver.

“That alright?” he asked with a tinge of worry in his voice,

“I think so. . .” he smirked at your everlasting uncertainty,

“Good. Now try and get some sleep,” he said with a hint of authority, “I’ll be right here the whole time.” you could have gasped.

“Dean?” he huffed a sigh and you had to suppress a giggle,

“What is it?” but his patience would never cease to amaze you, his brother’s either.

“Th -thank you.” you told him, “For saving me.” while you were really talking about the incident with Bo, the loaded sentence held much more meaning your realized.

Dean not only saved you from being raped, but also from your home life, a potentially dreary adult life, not to mention the complete mental destruction that came with all of those things.

“It was nothin’,” he grunted brusquely, “now close your eyes and dream would you? We’re totally sleeping in till eleven, and I’m making pancakes.” you did giggle that time while he pressed a kiss to the back of your head and all but went lax with exhaustion.

“Goodnight Dean,” you mumbled tiredly, feeling safe and secure in his arms. It was a new feeling, and it was amazing.

“Night sweetheart.” your eyes fluttered closed. Here you would only have good dreams, here there was no room for nightmares, not with Dean acting as your dream catcher.

He anchored you, made you feel protected. You knew with every fiber of your being that Dean wouldn’t let anything happen to you, not ever again, and as you drifted off into a relaxed slumber you knew those feelings meant more than friendship.

And for once that didn’t bother you one fucking bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! The end was pretty vanilla, but like - why would she dive right into raunchy banging right after her assault? She wouldn't :) 
> 
> Comments are always welcome! Hope you enjoyed the final chapter, thanks for reading lovelies!


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